


A Terrible Adventure in Demacia

by Diremon



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-10-11 09:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10461858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diremon/pseuds/Diremon
Summary: Katarina has very bad luck while attempting missions in Demacia.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my NaNo, which I wrote 68,000 words in 20 days, with a very broad theme (Demacia vs Noxus), and a plot determined entirely by dice rolls.
> 
> The initial story was, as expected, very very terrible.
> 
> This is the heavily edited version. Enjoy!

Crouched in the branches of one of the trees dotting the large manor, a shadowy figure waited. Down below on the garden path, a gaggle of party-goers slowly strolled, sipping their wine and socializing after their feast inside. Many compliments were made to the host, who swaggered amidst the group, bragging about his estate and all of his wealth. He had recently been promoted to the ranks of the High Command, and with it, came all the fame and glory that only the highest society of Noxus enjoyed. 

“Oh, yes! The position has been long overdue! I am glad I have finally been recognized for my achievements and accomplishments. Now, I finally have the respect I deserve to command. And the responsibility is not so bad, especially when I have a myriad of servants at my beck and call. If I want a hot tea made of rose petals and exotic spices I have never heard of? I can tell the nearest person to go find it for me! And they will do it, hah!” he boasted to his admiring company. 

“The Grand General didn’t seem too pleased, what do you reckon that was all about?” whined a particularly well-endowed woman, whose arm was locked with the arm of the nobleman. 

“Oh, him. You know how he is, the old man’s got a stick up his rear, for sure. It’s not a problem, though. I plan to go slow with that guy. Give him some time to stew on my appointment, and to wither away like the old fart he is, ha ha!” Only the cloaked figure above detected the slight tensing of the man’s voice, a hint of hesitation, of false bravado, when he said this, and gave a small smirk. Drawing two blades, sharp as razors, the person shifted slightly in impatience as the small procession below continued their agonizingly slow pace. Now one silly girl, squealing in delight, took ten steps back to pluck a few flowers from the beds, extolling their beauty. Of course, everyone backtracked and crowded around to take a look, and the nobleman stopped to brag about his garden, giving his knowledge of the plants in her hands. Knowledge that was, of course, incorrect, for he had actually no interest in the maintenance of his estate. That was the job of his lowly gardeners. 

Finally, they inched ever so slowly under the canopy of the tree, deep in their drinks, and laughing and cheering merrily. Jaw clenched in anticipation, the assassin watched as the nobleman finally approached the spot directly below. 

******* 

Vincent Fischer’s night had not been going all that well. His best friend, Mulligan Henderson, had been invited into the High Command, and tonight on this fair summer night, he hosted a huge party with his newfound wealth, and certainly displayed his enjoyment of this new life of luxury. Vincent could not help but notice, however, that Mulligan, a man he would have certainly called friend just three days prior, seemed to have forgotten his former life, and all the people in it. Now, Vincent begrudgingly trailed along during this small outing into the estate, drunk and bitter. It seemed to him his invitation to the party, and now this leisurely stroll, were merely afterthoughts on the part of Mulligan, trying to not stab too many people in the back as he climbed the political ladder. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth to make a witticism for Mulligan to hear, his glass of wine slipped out of his hand as he tried to beckon with it, and it smashed against the rocky path at his feet. The noise caught only the slightest attention from the others, but Mulligan did turn around to notice. Blushing now, Vincent stooped low to pick up the wine glass, or what remained of it, as he realized there was not much point to the broken object now. He stood up again to apologize to his host and former friend for the accident, but he only got as far as “I am so sor-” before something dropped down behind Mulligan, from high above in the tree under which they stood. 

The entourage had hardly enough time to even react with startled cries and frightened gasps before Mulligan Henderson had two long, wicked-looking daggers piercing him through. The oddly shaped, angular blades ripped out of his chest, and then swung across his neck, beheading him, and revealing to Vincent the dangerous, cold face behind his dead host. 

The onlookers were chopped down so quickly they barely had time to scream. The assassin moved like lightning among the slow, physically inept gentry. Daggers flew, whistling like wraiths and sinking into their hapless victims, as the assassin would dance around, beheading one and slicing through the heart of another. Soon, all that was left of the bloodbath was the assassin, with twitching bodies and spilled guts strewn all about. The few strangled cries that managed to escape the lips of the victims had not reached the party inside the manor, but the guards at the perimeter wall were instantly alert, and came rushing. 

Climbing back up into the tree just before the guards reach the site, the assassin watched the scene unfold below. The first guards who came stopped dead in their tracks upon witnessing the terrible sight, stunned by the carnage. Then the captain with more guards came, demanding to know what the screaming was about. Seeing the dead bodies lying about, he starting barking orders at the guardsmen, sending them scrambling to search the grounds and the manor for the murderer responsible for this deed. As they dispersed, the party guests still at the manor began to notice the panic unfolding on the grounds, and came rushing out to see what the fuss was about with terrible curiosity. The first to see the dead bodies began to scream hysterically, as the poor captain of the guard, at his wit’s end, tried to get what few men he could spare from the frantic search to herd the hapless guests back to the manor, to no avail. Word spread like wildfire: Sir Mulligan Henderson, recently promoted to the ranks of the High Command, was dead, murdered in his own gardens, at his own party in celebration of his honour and achievements. 

In all the chaos, not one single person looked up into the fateful tree. 

******* 

Katarina slammed the newspaper down on the desk, sending the various meticulous papers and organized scrolls flying as a raven on its elegant perch jumped and spread its wings, startled. Swain gave her a cold glare as he looked up from his writing. 

“There you go, one dead noble, painfully easy,” Katarina scoffed. “Have you got anything more difficult?” 

“Well,” said Swain sharply, “if that was such a bore to you, and you cannot possibly see the delicate political balances at work with every minute detail being addressed, no matter how mundane, then certainly, I have more challenging work for you.” 

Swain stood up from his writing desk, with a calculating look on his face. “There is one Demacian captain, Gary Ironhelm is his name, that has been a thorn in my side. Remove that thorn. That most certainly will not be ‘painfully easy’. No, it may even be ‘painfully difficult’. But I can see the bloodlust in your eyes. Fine. You’ll find his regiment camped southeast of the town called Dolores.” 

“Dolores! But that is barely twenty miles from the capital! It would be impossible to travel that far without detection!” Katarina gasped. 

“Hmph, ‘impossible’, she cries,” Swain sneered. “You wanted something challenging, I gave you something challenging. Now get out of my sight, and don’t come back until Ironhelm is dead!” 

With one last angry scowl, Katarina stormed out of the office. “Fine! And don’t worry, I’ll be back with his head!” 

******* 

“Dolores? Swain is trying to get you killed! Why’d you have to be so cocky?” Talon had returned from yet another trip following yet another lead on her father’s disappearance, and was shocked at Katarina’s new assignment. Katarina gave him an irritated scowl. “Quit whining. I’ve dealt with worse. One person sneaking through Demacia is much more likely to be able to strike at the heart than a whole regiment, and get away unnoticed. Besides, I’m quite ready for a change from all the mundane work I’ve been getting. I’m almost glad there were nearly a dozen people around that last noble, it actually made things more interesting! You should have heard the hysterical screaming,” she laughed. 

“I still can’t believe you just hid in the tree until they all fucked off, though. How did not one of them think to look up?” 

“Luck, I guess,” Katarina shrugged. “Well, I’m all packed. I don’t plan to linger. I’ve got a long way to go, and this Ironhelm guy could be on the move for all the details Swain gave me. Damn him!” Katarina paused at her small pack, if it could even be called that. A single canteen of water, to be refilled during the trip, some dried, non-perishable food, also to be replenished as she traveled, her poison kit with only the essentials, and nothing more than the clothes on her back, and every single dagger she could safely fit onto her person. 

“But this is still dangerous. And you know it.” Talon persisted. “Just swallow your pride and admit this is a bad idea, and go to Swain for a more realistic assignment! Why do you even accept work from him? Bastard’s gonna stab you in the back one day!” 

“He still pays better than anyone else in Noxus. I’m not backing down from this. I’m leaving, I’ll be back.” With that, Katarina stormed off, leaving Talon to his worries.


	2. Chapter Two

It had been two rough months of travel since Katarina had departed from the Du Couteau manor, and a month since she crossed over into Demacian territory, leaving behind the safety and familiarity of her fellow men, and venturing deep behind enemy lines. So close to the capital, people were everywhere, especially in places they would least be expected, and she had a few close calls, but they were mostly simple farmers who caught a glimpse of a figure walking through the shelter of trees and thick brush and stupidly decided to follow. The few ‘problems’ who actually got close enough to see her were solved with a quick dagger in their backs. 

Unfortunately, it was these deaths that triggered the alarm that someone malicious was near, and even here at Dolores, in the heart of the country where no threat has been spotted for years, Katarina observed the nervous tension in the populace from her perch in a nearby grove of trees. There was definitely no moving by day now, and by night, it took all her wit and skill to avoid the numerous patrols in the city and on the outskirts. Now she was somewhat trapped in this grove of trees as she waited for nightfall again. She tried to get herself some much-needed rest until the night, however the trees were proving too unstable to hold her up safely, and she definitely could not go onto the ground or even the lower, more sturdy branches, where someone might accidentally spot her if they were to enter the grove. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stay in the higher, safer branches, and waited for hours. 

******* 

The sun had just begun to set, and Katarina was finally near the end of her waiting, when her situation took a turn for the worse. A large blue bird, which she had observed circling above the town for hours, by chance decided to land in the grove for a rest. Perched barely two trees over, Katarina recognized the bird instantly. Honour, or something, was it’s name. Belonged to a high-ranking Demacian scout, Quinn. Indeed, this bird had some sort of armor, mostly decorative, but still bearing the symbol of the Demacian Rangers. She had heard of Talon’s nasty tangle with the pair before, and knew they were no pushovers. If that bird spotted her, a quick dagger in the back would not be enough to solve this problem. The bird had not noticed Katarina yet, as it happened to be facing the other way, for now. She held as still and as quiet as she could, hoping the dratted feather bag would leave soon without looking around. 

Instead, the bird simply puffed up its feathers and began to sleep in place, like Swain’s raven would on his shoulder. It was not quite darkness yet, as the sun was still visible on the horizon, so as much as she would have loved to quietly sneak away from the bird, she could not afford to go on the ground yet. She impatiently watched the sun slowly sink lower, past the distant hills, with a sharp eye on the bird, though it did not move. 

Just as the last glimmer of sunshine disappeared over the horizon, a sharp call went out, “Valor, now!” The bird instantly sprung awake - or, rather, Katarina realized in dismay, it had never been asleep in the first place, and was upon her, clawing at her face and buffeting her with its wings, trying to knock her off of her perch. She heard a click of a crossbow, and pain seared through her leg, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground - or rather, the net suspended just above it, and directly below her, held by several soldiers. The ground was no longer visible for it was packed with men. 

Before panic could set in, Katarina managed to pull out two daggers as she fell, one in each hand, and threw the first one, aiming for one of the net-holders. Her aim was true, and the man staggered back, letting go of the net as blood now gushed out of the wound in his neck. Next, Katarina blink stepped behind the farthest soldier she could see during her descent, landing as quietly as her injured leg would allow her. The soldiers all shouted in surprise and shock at her disappearance and apparent escape, but Valor, having a bird’s-eye view, was not fooled, and immediately changed his course to pounce on her, shrieking. Now on the ground and unable to run thanks to the bolt in her leg, and the awful hell-bird trying to scratch her eyes out, Katarina hurled her daggers at her foes, but the heavily armoured soldiers quickly surrounded her. 

The bird lifted itself away, only to have the net immediately replacing it, ensnaring her. Trying desperately to cut through the net with her dagger, Katarina did not have time or even the space to dodge the fisted gauntlet that was aimed for her head, and darkness quickly followed.


	3. Chapter Three

The rattling and sharp bumping of the road woke Katarina. Trying to sit up, she lifted herself up, only to have the surface she was lying on jerk harshly, shaking her violently. She hit her head on the wood surface, which caused the headache that was throbbing in the back of her mind to come screaming to the forefront. Groaning, she instead decided to lie there, and slowly take in her surroundings. She was in a box, as best as she could tell, and judging by the noise and motion outside it, it must have wheels attached, for it was currently moving. 

Finally sensing a lull in the unsteady motion of the box, she took the opportunity to slowly sit up and take better stock of her situation. Shackles were around her wrists, and tethered to the metal frame of the box. The frame held in place wood panels on all six surfaces, though one side looked like it could move, and was probably the exit. There were small holes in the side panels near the ceiling of the box, allowing in light and air. The chain did not give enough room to let her head reach the holes so she could look out of them, though. Judging by the light, it was day again. She was still wearing her own clothes, but noticed whoever was handling her, must have been very thorough, for not a single dagger, hidden or not, remained. She cringed at this thought. She also noticed that the wound in her leg had been bandaged. Remembering the bird, she lifted her hands to her face, and found that it had escaped mostly unscathed - at the cost of her hands and arms which had covered it from the bird’s attacks, and now bore many scratches, some of which had also been wrapped up. 

Feeling groggy, Katarina decided to simply sit still for a while, trying to brace herself for the bumps in the road, and wait out the awful headache that nearly blinded her. Outside, she could hear the heavy panting of both men and horses as they marched onward to an unknown destination. 

******* 

After what seemed like an eternity on the road, Katarina felt the box, a carriage of sorts, begin to slow to a stop. The men outside were all weary, and she could hear the relieved sighs as they apparently arrived to wherever they wanted to be. For the past while, she had been trying to slip out of the shackles, and tugging at the wood floor of her box, but to no avail. The shackles were on tight, so tight her hands were cramped and in pain. The wood certainly did move a little after a long while, but if she were still chained to the metal frame, there was hardly any point in busting herself a hole through which to escape. Whoever had captured her had taken no chances. She could only sit and wait for whatever was to happen next. 

Footsteps approached, and she could hear a discussion begin outside. 

“Captain Ironhelm, Elite Ranger Quinn. A pleasure to see you here. I hear you’ve managed to make a capture?” Rumbled one voice. The next voice was female, obviously Quinn. “Yes, Warden Malkov. A very important one, too. I have sent Valor with a message directly to the king, but I had been tracking a high-ranking assassin of Noxus for nearly a week and a half, and with the help of Captain Ironhelm’s soldiers, captured her alive. Additionally, this might also be the end of the murders in the forests that have been plaguing the countryside for weeks, as I believe she was responsible for those deaths as she traveled towards the capital.” 

Malkov! She recognized the name for the reputation; he was the warden of Demacia’s most secure penitentiary, from which none had ever escaped, supposedly. A sense of dread filled Katarina as she realized just how deep her trouble was - she was now inside the capital itself, at the gates of the last place any Noxian assassin wanted to be. And probably the last place she would ever be, if she couldn’t figure out how to escape _immediately_. She struggled with the chains, giving as much effort as she could to break free of them, but the heavy metal still would not budge. Horrified, she could only sit and listen to the awful conversation happening outside while panic welled up inside her. 

“An assassin? Here? That seems odd, where did you find her?” 

“Just outside of Dolores, and we are uncertain why she was here. Happy, because now she is captured, but uncertain,” spoke a younger male voice, presumably Ironhelm. 

“Hmm, indeed. Regardless, I’ll have her placed in maximum security.” Here the deep voice shouted to nearby men, giving orders, and soon the carriage was moving again. Now frozen in terror, Katarina’s mind raced, trying to think of a plan, but each idea that popped up was increasing more ridiculous than the last. There was simply no getting out of these chains. 

“Oh, one last thing,” perked up the young male voice, “here is her, er, belongings. They should probably stay with whoever has custody of her, though obviously, don’t leave them within her reach.” 

“Of course,” replied Malkov, “I’ll have these kept safe.” 

Her daggers! So they were nearby, not that she could reach them now, but if she were lucky enough later, she might be able to find them again. 

Several minutes of the carriage stopping, and gates creaking open, and the carriage starting again with the gates closing behind went by before it came to its final destination, and the order was given to open it. The end gave way, and two large, muscular men looked in. One had the key to the chain, and unlocked it, dragging her out by the chain. Katarina immediately sprung into action, trying to lash out, kicking and scratching all that she could with her limited movement. She caught one of them in the crotch, and he grunted and crouched in pain, but the other took hold of her legs, pinning them together to prevent more kicking. A third man who waited grabbed her torso, and together they carried her to a cell. Again, the chain tether was locked to the back wall, before the two dropped her unceremoniously, and quickly leapt out of the way to avoid her attacking kicks, exiting the cell and locking it. Crouched on the ground, she screamed in anger as the three hauled the prison carriage away, taking the torches with them, and leaving her alone in a dark and very quiet jail. 

******* 

Katarina lay on the cold, hard stone. The cell had absolutely nothing in it for comfort. Alone and trapped in her own despair, she had nothing to do but dwell on her situation. Every single discomfort in her body was screaming to make itself known, and there was nothing to distract her from all the cuts and scratches from the fight, and all the bruising from the travelling that followed. Her hands were the worst, throbbing from the restrictive shackles, and hurting even more than her injured calf. 

What little sleep she had managed to get in the total darkness of her cell was plagued by the reliving of these recent events. She was acutely aware that she was rather thirsty, and realized she had not eaten nor drank anything since her capture. Eventually, she heard the approaching sounds of someone, or several someones, and her heart began to pound in apprehension. Sitting up in spite of all her aches and pains, she brought her knees close to her chest, and waited and watched as light flooded in from an unseen door to the left of her cell. A group gathered outside her cell, looking in at her. She scowled back, blinking from the light. 

“Yep, that’s definitely her. Katarina Du Couteau, the Sinister Blade,” scoffed one. She recognised his voice instantly: Garen Crownguard. Of course, he would recognize her as well. As her eyes adjusted, she took stock of the faces. Standing slightly left from the center was Garen, the man’s face and size was unmistakably the one she had met on the battlefield before. Next to him on the far left was a young woman, wearing the same emblem she had seen on the bird’s crest piece. She must be Quinn. An older man stood on Garen’s other side, and Katarina could have sworn he looked exactly like the figure in the hall of fame in the Fleshing Arena. There were guards who wore the same suits as the men who had dragged her into the cell, one of them looking older and grizzled, and held the keys, probably the warden, Malkov. The guards were all massive, with hands as big as her head. _No chances being taken here_ , she thought. But the man who caught her eye the most, and made her wish she had a dagger to throw, stood directly in the center, decorated with crown and crests: Prince Jarvan the Fourth. 

“Well done, Quinn. You’ve outdone yourself. And this time, the people who you left in charge of your assassin didn’t let her escape!” Katarina knew they were referring to Talon. He had been captured by Quinn before, but the soldiers she handed him over to turned out to be incompetent, and let him escape on the first night of travel. Now Jarvan nodded to the rest, then he, Quinn, and the old man from the Fleshing Arena walked out. The warden unlocked the cell, and in came the burly guardsmen. Katarina shifted into a better position for fighting and dodging, although the chain would remain a problem for her. As the guards approached, she gave a few warning punches, as if to say, _I’m not going down without a fight_. One reached to grab her arm, but she evaded, and returned with a punch to his inner elbow, causing him to wince, that arm flailing. While she moved, another attempted to wrap his arms around her in a big hug, but she headbutted him in the mouth, and was rewarded with him dropping her, cursing as he spat out broken teeth. The headache returned, throbbing in the back of her head where she hit him. 

Now much more reluctant, the guards had reached an impasse with her. Garen, still in the room, put his palm to his head, shaking it slightly, and entered the cell. “No more funny games,” he grumbled as he approached her. He was much more heavily armoured, and she knew from previous encounters that all the kicking and punching she could throw would not stop him; she needed daggers. Still, she wouldn’t give up, and to the extent the chain would let her, she evaded his attempts to get a hold on her. Sighing, he eventually just grabbed the chain, and pulled her towards him. She lashed out, screaming angrily and trying to reach his face, the only unprotected part on his body, but he pinned her arms down against her stomach, embracing her tightly, allowing the guards to finally approach. Two more chains were attached to the manacles, and Garen carried her out into the larger area as she kicked against his heavily armored legs. With Garen on one chain, Malkov and a third guard grabbed the other two and holding them at their limit, held her in place in the center of them, and they began to move forward. 

She struggled and squirmed, yelling curses and insults at them the whole way as they slowly half-carried, half-dragged her out of the small building, into a courtyard, through a set of gates, and down a long hallway. Doors were periodically spaced along its length, but the guards kept going straight forward. At the end of the hallway, a final set of doors was opened, revealing what looked to be the front entrance of the penitentiary, the warden’s office building. In here, they veered left and climbed up the spiraling stairs to a second floor. The hallway was narrow now, and she gripped onto anything she could reach: Doorknobs leading into various rooms, window sills looking out over the expansive prison grounds. She managed to ruin a few of them as she was peeled and torn off. Malkov, who had been leading, opened a door, but stopped before going in, thinking. “Garen, can you restrain her again? Judging by what she did to those window sills, I am almost certain she can probably rip out the frame of this door.” 

Dropping his chain, Garen obliged while Malkov and the guard held theirs tightly, giving her no room to resist as Garen wrapped his massive arms around her, lifted her off the ground, and carried her inside the room, despite her screaming protests and kicking as hard as she could. Inside, it was oddly L-shaped, but otherwise plain with nothing but a table and four chairs. Three chairs were simple. The fourth chair, equipped with many straps for holding someone down, was very obviously for her, and her heart plummeted when she saw it. 

Every single restraint was a battle to get on her, and many kicks, scratches, and screams later, they finally had her pinned down and unable to move in the chair. Standing back, the three were all breathless. Katarina was red in the face and seething, still struggling against the restraints and nearly hoarse from screaming. 

“Well,” sighed Malkov, trying to brush the episode off as if they had all just taken a brisk, but not overly difficult hike, “I think everyone deserves a break.” The three of them left her alone. Immediately, her thoughts went to escaping, and she tugged at the restraints. Though they were made of leather, they were tough, and did not budge nearly enough for her to break free. Sitting back, she forced herself to relax and rest, conserving her energy for whatever was in store. The one relief of this chair was having the damned chains off, and though the straps around her wrist were snug enough that she could not pull her hands through, the blood flowed through them easily, giving her hands much needed comfort. 

For about fifteen minutes, she waited in silence. Her leg throbbed, and she realized whatever had healed must have come undone in the struggle, judging by the dampness seeping into the cloth around it. She was also much more thirsty, and her headache had only gotten worse, blinding her and threatening to knock her out. 

******* 

Noise once again bustled from the door, and in came two cooks wheeling a cart. The smell nearly had Katarina drooling, as her stomach eagerly reminded her of how empty it was. A lavish dinner was set on the table. A roast turkey, covered in aromatic spices and surrounded by a beautiful flower garnish took the center, with fresh bread and fine cheese on one side and a delicate salad on the other. Wine, undoubtedly expensive, and two wine glasses were placed in between her and the roast, along with a tiny little bottle that had Katarina suspicious. Four plates were placed down on the sides of the table. On the plate in front of her was placed an ugly little piece of bread alongside a small pitcher of water. How they expected her to eat any of it with her arms pinned down was beyond her, but she immediately decided she would have nothing to do with the bread. The water was a welcome sight, though, and her aching head screamed to chug it down. 

The cooks backed up, with one leaving with the cart, and the door opened again. This time, it was Jarvan, along with his bodyguard, and Garen. Each took a place at the table, with Jarvan directly across from Katarina. The cook remaining approached the table, filling each of the mens’ plates with the delicious food, and pouring wine into the glasses. Jarvan smiled, thanking the cook, and dismissed him. 

“Well, this has been a most victorious day! Shall we eat our humble feast? Dig in!” invited Jarvan, and the three of them began to eat, making their enjoyment of the food no small secret, while Katarina’s stomach churned, craving for something. Inwardly, Katarina seethed, so very irritated, but she decided to remain quiet and play along with their game. Neither glass of wine at the moment had been touched, and she was curious to see what was next. 

Finally done their main course, bread and cheese was passed around, and now Jarvan acknowledged the wine. “It is fine stuff, perfect, even, you know. And lucky you, you get to try it. Three hundred years old, and from Jandelle, no less!” Here he chuckled, grabbing the small bottle. “Well, you’ll be having it with this,” as he placed several drops of whatever it was into one of the glasses. The old man roared with laughter and Garen gave a smirk, while Katarina simply frowned, trying to discern the meaning behind it. _Why even bother with the bread and water if they’re just going to poison me and kill me right here? Why even bother getting me into this chair, then? They could have left me to rot. Unless this poison isn’t lethal…_ An idea began to form in Katarina’s head, and when they finally settled down from laughing, she added, “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Always some kind of catch, hmm? By the way, how am I supposed to partake of these festivities if my arms are pinned down?” 

“Oh!” Jarvan exclaimed, “well, of course, you’ll need your hands, won’t you?” He motioned to the other two, who undid the straps for her arms, and she slowly massaged the life back into her hands. Her arms were covered in dried blood from the scratches, but she ignored the issue for now. “Hmph, that’s better. Now, then, I still haven’t tried this… famous wine of yours.” Being at the center of the table, she still could not actually reach the wine glass from her pinned position. 

“Er, of course,” stumbled Garen, and he made to reach for the poisoned wine. “Oh, I don’t get the poisoned wine after all?” Katarina interrupted with a cheerful tone in her voice. The three looked startled, and she realized they must not have ever heard her sounding anything but angry. But the distraction was enough, and suddenly all three could not actually recall which glass had been poisoned. Inwardly delighted at their stupidity, she carefully egged them into ‘remembering’ that it was the other glass that had been poisoned without giving away her game. 

With the pure wine finally in her hands, and the poisoned glass in Jarvan’s, she resisted the urge to grin at him, and instead gave him a half-hearted cheer, “To your victory, I guess…” and took a sip, as he much more cheerfully followed suit. The other two at the table were in equally high spirits, though they themselves had no wine, presumably to keep their wits about them. She would need to get rid of them, but first she had to figure out what the poison even did, and how she could manipulate the situation to her favour. 

She had underestimated her thirst, and the glass soon was empty. She had brief thoughts of the pitcher of water being likewise poisoned before it had been served, and so she dared not touch it. Jarvan asked Garen to pour her a second glass, and to her relief, he did not add the poison this time - apparently the first dose would be enough for whatever was to happen. She made a mental note to slow herself down; poison or no poison, wine would render her useless in time anyway. She watched Jarvan carefully, and noticed, over time, that he seemed to become increasingly more relaxed, giddy, even. He began to ask her about her history, her home life, seemingly harmless questions. Katarina, however, realized this was supposed to be an interrogation to try and get information out of her, and so she became very careful with her words, and misdirected the conversation to the best of her ability, turning questions around and directing them at Jarvan, who, surprisingly, was quite open to answering. She realized then what the poison was: A serum to get her talking. Judging by Jarvan’s behaviour, she could guess which particular potion had been used: a false comfort potion. It was making Jarvan feeling very good, relaxed, and perfectly at ease, and also very, very agreeable and manipulatable. Katarina could ask Jarvan now for all the secrets of his kingdom, and he would give them freely, though his two companions would have slit her throat if they realized what was going on. For now, they simply thought he was in a very merry mood. 

A few more mundane questions passed back and forth. Then she hatched an idea. 

“Jarvan, I have to ask,” she started, “I’m totally pinned down and helpless here, and yet you have these two terrible monsters protecting you. Let me guess, they must have talked you into it, into letting them in here?” 

“Ah, well, yes, that would be protocol, the prince ought to have his bodyguards with him at all times, no?” 

“All times? Even when you sleep, in your room?” 

“What? No! No, I have staff who guard me from outside my bedroom!” 

“So you don’t need them within arm’s reach while you’re asleep, but here you do, while you’re awake? Don’t you see, they are babying you! They think you’re not a capable and intelligent man!” 

This statement elicited suspicion from both Garen and the other man, whose name, she learned from their conversing, was Xin Zhao. They now eyed her warily, but had not yet figured out just what was going on. “That’s not true! We’re also his friends and merely enjoy each other’s company! Not that you would know what a friend is!” Xin Zhao sneered. But the seed had been planted in Jarvan’s head, and now he began to doubt. 

“So, they bother you, then? I suppose we could simply have a one-on-one discussion, then.” Jarvan replied. “Garen, Xin Zhao, please excuse yourselves from the table and leave.” 

The two were speechless, and looked for a moment to argue, but a warning frown from Jarvan told them better, and unable to directly disobey their prince’s command, they got up and left the room, shooting murderous glares at Katarina on their way out. She grinned in response. They were correct that she was up to something, but there was nothing they could do about it. 

As the door closed behind them, Katarina turned her attention to Jarvan with a smile on her face. “Well, that’s a lot of turkey you’ve got, surely there’s enough for me as well?” she asked in as sweet a tone as she could muster. Jarvan, evidently eager to impress under the effects of the potion, perked up. “Why yes! Absolutely, here, let me fill that plate for you!” Tossing aside the stale bread, he generously heaped up the plate with turkey and salad, passing it to her. Katarina’s stomach grumbling loudly, she did her best to eat as gracefully as she could while putting as much food into her body as quickly as possible. Jarvan, sitting and waiting, just watched her with a big, stupid grin on his face, the potion allowing him to accomplish nothing else without prompting. 

Brainstorming while she ate, an idea came to Katarina. “Have you seen my daggers, by any chance?” she asked carefully. 

“Oh, for sure! Malkov was showing them off in his office earlier! They’re very nice!” 

“Huh,” Katarina responded in pleased surprise, “I’m guessing I passed his office on the way in here?” She vaguely remembered ripping off a sign that said ‘WARDEN’S OFFICE’ on one of the doors she was dragged past. “Oh, yes, four doors down!” _Very good to know. Now the next step is to figure out a way to escape this chair. Perhaps this compromised oaf can help with that, as well._ “I have enjoyed your visit. I would never have imagined such royalty would grace me with his presence! However, I must rest now. Is that fine with you? I think you should take your two friends and treat them to a nice dessert at your palace! I’m sure they’ll be anxious to know you’re alright. You can let them know everything is perfectly fine, yes?” 

“Absolutely! Yes, I did hear of a rather exhausting struggle here earlier, you must be completely worn out! My apologies for overstaying!” Without much hesitation, Jarvan stood up and excused himself. As soon as he was out of sight, she began untying the straps with her already-freed hands, working quickly. She had no idea how much time she had just bought herself, but she wasn’t going to waste a single second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the remnants of the effects of writing this thing in 20 days: Wildly differing chapter lengths.


	4. Chapter Four

Katarina carefully tested her injured leg, taking a few steps. It hurt, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the moment. She’d have to be careful with it, no particularly flamboyant acrobatics, or it might start bleeding again. Arming herself with the carving knife, she quietly approached the door. Listening, she could make out the distant voices of Jarvan, Malkov, Garen, and the bodyguard, and they were getting increasingly louder with anger. Wasting no time, she carefully cracked open the door, and a quick glance around told her the hallway was empty. Sneaking in the opposite direction from the voices, she heard a door begin to open behind her, and she panicked and dived into another room through its partially opened door. The room was thankfully devoid of people, but looking around, Katarina realized it was very large, and contained rows and rows of shelves, all stuffed with boxes. 

Listening, she heard the group storm down the hallway into the room she no longer was in, and a lot of loud, angry yelling and cursing ensued. They ran out again, and charged in both directions, with Malkov shouting out a window, “sound the alarm! A prisoner is loose! Secure the building, she can’t have gotten far!” 

Doors were being opened and shut as each room was frantically searched, and jumping to the top shelf of a nearby rack, Katarina hid herself behind a pile of boxes. The bodyguard stepped in, and quietly crept down the hall, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. As he walked past her hiding place, Katarina carefully climbed down behind him and snuck away towards the door. Having frantically moved to search other areas of the building, assuming she had gotten farther than she really had, the men were now gone from the hallway, and she sprinted as lightly as she could with her injured leg to the door of the warden’s personal office. Letting herself inside was easy; its knob had been among those she had destroyed previously. 

The office was well-decorated with beautifully carved cabinetry and a solid desk, with fancy, leather chairs. Certainly, the warden was well-paid for his work. Katarina’s eyes, however, were on the box sitting on the desk. Wooden, with a iron lock, and locked, of course. Rather than fiddle with the impressive looking lock, Katarina began opening cupboards and drawers in search of any keys. She was rewarded almost immediately with the discovery of a ring of keys clearly labeled “Gates”, and in another drawer, she found a handful of miscellaneous, unmarked keys. Some looked like they could fit, so she began trying them, one after another. No such luck. More rummaging through the drawers rendered nothing useful. Frustrated, she glared at the box. A glint caught her eye: Sitting on the desk, next to the box the whole time, was a key. Groaning at herself, she picked up the key and tried it. The box unlocked, and inside were her beautiful daggers. 

Fitting the daggers into their places on her person, she felt so much better having her weapons in her hands. Ready for the next step, she turned to the door, and barely had a second to react. A shadow could be seen through the foggy glass, reaching for the door. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she ducked behind the door as it opened, realizing in dismay that she had not closed the box. 

In stepped Garen, not yet seeing her in her hiding spot behind the door, but he did immediately notice the missing daggers. “What the…” he started, “SHE’S IN HERE! SHE’S IN THE OFFICE! OR WAS!” he bellowed out the door, and Katarina could hear the immediate response as guards scrambled from everywhere to start their frantic search anew. Please leave, please leave, she prayed. Instead, Garen shut the door behind him and began to look around. Just before he could catch a glimpse of her, she pounced, aiming for his neck with her daggers in hand. He moved fast, incredibly fast, in response, and ducked, lifting a powerful arm as she flew over and grabbing her by the injured leg. A dagger whistled through the air, aiming for his neck, but he shifted, catching it with his armour instead. Twisting the leg and rendering her prone, she couldn’t help the scream that escaped her lips as pain shot through it and she felt the bandages around it once again dampen. 

Another bellow into the hallway as he dragged her out. “FOUND HER! COME! HELP! IN THE OFFICE!” With his lapse in attention on her, she delivered a kick with her good leg to his groin, and he grunted in pain, crouching down while trying to keep his grip on her. Daggers in hand, she slashed at his arm from her poor position, trying to loosen the grip, while tears streamed down her face from the horrible pain. Guards began pouring in from either end of the hallway, with Xin Zhao and Malkov in the lead. 

Though her situation was hopeless, Katarina continued to fight to the best of her ability. A dagger at Garen’s face caused him to flinch and raise his arm to block it, releasing her leg. Rolling onto her feet in a crouch, she flung another dagger as hard as she could towards Malkov, who quickly jumped out of the way, unintentionally letting the weapon impale the guard behind him. Katarina blink stepped to the guard, ripping out her dagger from the man's chest with one hand and slicing the legs of the nearby guards with the other before once again blink stepping farther to the back end of the group. Xin Zhao, who had been running in from the other side, saw her moves, and in the midst of the crowd now scrambling to figure out where she went, shouted, “Behind you! Turn around!” 

Katarina found that she could not run, or even walk very well. Blood was now flowing freely from her leg, and it would not respond to her trying to get it to move. Now standing with her back to the wall, guards began to surround her. Only her daggers, held menacingly, kept them from crowding in on her, as the cowards chose to leave a respectable distance than take a chance with the infamous assassin. All common sense screamed at her to surrender, that it would be a ‘mark of good behaviour’ if she accepted defeat, but her stubborn refusal to go down quietly overrode it. With a last burst of energy, she threw two more daggers, hitting her targets directly in the face, and blink stepped to them once again, retrieving the daggers as they fell, and slashing out at anyone now within arm’s reach. Limbs were lost and screams uttered as three more fell to her savage attacks. 

Once again, she backed against a wall, fending her captors off in the terrible stalemate. On top of the pain coming from her leg, her headache began to make itself known once more, as she became dizzy. In her slowly blurring vision, she saw the giant figure of Garen once again stand up, and march over to her. Fighting to keep her balance, she threw her daggers at him, but he easily warded them off, stepping forward confidently past the guards, and grabbing her by the neck and strangling her. “That’s enough. Sleep time now,” he grumbled as she tried to pull his massive fingers away from around her neck. She heard the guards give a ragged cheer as she slowly lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter Five

Pain. Dull. Throbbing. Can’t run. Can’t move. Leg hurts. Hands hurt. Hurt. See people. What are they doing? Stop. Please stop. Can’t move. Help. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. The people are going away. Darkness. Cold. 

******* 

The deep, rumbling voice gently coaxed Katarina awake. She tried to reply, but only a weak mumble came out. “Hmm, you are awake,” said the voice softly. It was strangely familiar while being completely alien. She thought she recognized the voice, but the tone was not right. Groaning as she tried to get up, she found herself unable to move. Opening her eyes, it took her several minutes to realize she was staring at stone. The voice droned on. Maybe it was talking to her, maybe it wasn’t. 

Confused, she shifted her head to look around. More stone, and then a too-familiar person. Garen. Her heart beating harder, she tried in vain to reach for daggers that were not there. Her hands stopped short, and it was then that she realized there were chains on them again. This time, the shackles were not so horrendously tight, as if someone actually took the time to make sure they fit right, but their presence did not help calm the panic that was building up inside her. She attempted to kick out at Garen with her good leg, but was stopped short by apparently more bindings. 

Pausing, she carefully lifted her head to see what was going on, why she couldn’t move. The answer was obvious almost immediately: She had been strapped to a bed, if the wooden slab she lay on could be called that. 

“Still fighting, I see,” commented Garen, “You really should calm down, you know. Bad for your-” 

“CALM DOWN? I’M FUCKING DEAD! YOU THINK I CAN BE CALM? TO FUCKING HELL WITH YOU! I WILL FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL AND LEAVE YOU SCARRED OR DEAD IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!” Katarina screamed at him. Cursing and hurling insults at him, she flinched and braced herself when he moved his hand towards her head, unable to dodge what she was sure was a punch. 

Instead, he patted her forehead, petting her hair before withdrawing the hand again. The touch was wholly unexpected, and Katarina was momentarily stunned to silence as she tried to figure out how to react. “Yes, I suppose it is a miserable state to be in, caught with nowhere to go. Still, though, you could at least have some dignity.” 

“Don’t touch me again,” she hissed in response, ignoring his words. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate, because you need to be fed, and thanks to your own doing, no one else will come near you while you’re awake. Are you going to eat off of a spoon, or do you need to be force-fed?” 

In response, Katarina just screamed at him, frustrated and angry with her lack of control over her own situation. Garen simply watched without saying anything as she twisted and struggled under the bindings, the panic coming full-force as she lost any sense of reasoning. 

******* 

Garen felt completely repulsed by the sight. He would never have called her human before, being the sadistic, murderous monster she was, but it was still better than this demented thrashing. Even at that fated dinner, she seemed to be collected, and definitely had her wits about her, even if she did fight like a demon to avoid the chair. But now, he sat on his stool, watching as whatever scrap of sanity disappeared from her in this terrible fit. She was in distress, writhing and struggling about, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried to comfort her with the pat on her head earlier, but she made it very clear to him that she did not like that, and he was not about to cross a woman’s boundaries - not even this woman’s. Sitting, he simply waited for the moment to pass, hoping she would recover on her own. 

Eventually, she stopped moving and screaming. She lay there, helpless and crying, the manic energy gone - for the moment. Judging by his past experiences with her, he knew she meant it when she said she would never stop fighting, and knew the struggling could return in a heartbeat. 

While she had been sick with fever and delirious over the past week, he had observed that she could be soothed with the sound of his voice if he spoke in a low, calm manner, and she would watch him with a small smile on her face, giggling and looking so blissful and innocent. It was so unexpected to him that at first he had found it disturbing to see a monster acting so tame - almost human, even. At some point, however, he had realized that she was, in fact, human. Of course, it was obvious; what else could she be? But he realized he had never really regarded her as an equal person to him. Now, however, she was apparently fully awake, and back to her monstrous self. He picked up the book again, and began to read it aloud once more, hoping to get through that monster to the human underneath. She watched him with a bewildered look on her face, and he could sense her eyes trying to discern what trickery he was up to. 

Three pages later, he could see that her chest had stopped heaving so heavily and so fast, and that she lay still, staring at him with a still-confused expression. Hopeful, he picked up the bowl of gruel and the spoon, showing them to her. “Are you hungry?” He asked in as calm a voice as he could. Maybe if she saw the food she’d make the connection that he was only trying to help her. 

Simultaneously, she hissed “no” and turned away, while her stomach gave an audible gurgle. He knew the stomach was right, for she had been mostly unconscious for at least a week, and had not eaten anything during that time, only getting fluids. “I think you should eat,” he urged, “and I think your stomach agrees with me.” 

“I SAID NO!” she screamed this time, and the heavy panting returned. She didn’t thrash about again, but glared at him with an angry snarl, watching his every move. “Fine,” he resigned, and, putting the bowl and spoon down, he walked out of the cell. Out of her line of sight from within the cell was a cart with the equipment he needed. He paused, loathing what he had to do next. This would not be particularly pleasant, but starving to death was not an option. Not yet, anyway. 

******* 

Katarina knew she was going to regret her decision. He had offered her several opportunities to simply behave and let him feed her, and somewhere in the back of her mind, a tiny voice told her that it was the smart option to take: Her stomach would be full, and perhaps Garen would bugger off without much more conflict. But she did not stop fighting before, and she wasn’t going to stop now. She promised to make herself as difficult a prisoner as possible. 

Garen came back from whatever corner he was in, dragging with him a cart. She began to scream at him, a long, wordless scream, but, without showing emotion, nor opening his mouth to try to talk to her again, he simply approached, grabbing a long, thin, flexible tube with a small metal ring from the cart. Katarina tried to shake her head of his grip, pushing against the restraints as far as they would go, but she didn’t have very much room to move away from him at all. Taking the tube, he shoved it into her mouth and down her throat, twisting her head back and prying her mouth open to make sure it was going in the right direction. She tried to bite down on it, but found that he was keeping the metal ring right around where her teeth were, preventing damage. Gagging and coughing, her screams turned to sobbing, as Garen continued his work, seemingly unbothered by her extreme discomfort. The tube was in place, and now a funnel was attached. He held her head still while he poured what appeared to be a thin soup into the funnel slowly. It felt like an eternity before the bowl had been emptied. 

Finally the task was done and the tube was removed, and Katarina was still and silent in shock. Being handled so neatly against her will was not a nice experience. Certainly, she had been dragged and chained against her will prior to this, but there was always a chance to fight it, to, at the very least, give her captors a hard time. But here, there had been nothing she could do to stop him, and brought to stark light just how helpless she was.


	6. Chapter Six

Garen and Malkov marched down the hallway towards the maximum security building. It had been three weeks since the escape incident, and two since Katarina had woken up. After the single meal being force-fed, her behaviour had vastly worsened, as she had absolutely hated being pinned down. Thankfully for them, however, there was nothing she could do about that but scream at them, until they added a tonic to paralyze her vocal cords to the concoction she was fed. Then she really could do nothing. 

Garen had expressed concern that she may never reach the point of cooperation, but lose her sanity and any information she held in the process, and so an early appointment was scheduled for her second interrogation. This one would have to be a little more forceful than the ordinary. 

Crossing the small courtyard to the maximum security building, they entered inside. Garen thought he heard activity while he was at the door, but whatever noise she was making had ceased as soon as the door opened. Coming into the view of her cell, they looked inward. Still strapped to the wooden bench, she only stared at the ceiling, ignoring them. 

“Good morning,” Garen greeted her politely as Malkov unlocked the cell door, though no response returned. Garen and Malkov entered the cell and approached her. She squirmed under the restraints, her jaw clenched tightly and her face contorted into an expression of rage, and she growled at them, the tonic slightly worn off now. While she was still restrained, they attached the chain leads to her manacles. Next, they tackled the restraints, freeing all but her hands, which kept her effectively pinned to the bench, though Garen had to restrain her legs to prevent her from kicking Malkov as he undid the last lock holding the manacles to the solid board. As soon as it was off, the two of them jumped back and spread out, holding the two leads in opposite directions, keeping her in place between them. 

They slowly navigated out of the prison cell. Garen had to approach and pull her off of the bars that lined the doorway, and figured to try carrying her out of the building, before dropping her on the grass in the courtyard. She actually lay still, and when they tried to drag her along, she hoarsely cried out, “but, grass! It’s so nice!” 

Malkov shrugged at Garen. “I can spare five minutes to let her sit on the grass.” Garen nodded. Pulling out a little piece of wood and a tiny knife, Malkov carved the wood as he waited, whittling it into shape. 

******* 

The sun felt so good on Katarina’s back that she wanted to sit there on the lawn forever. Playing with the grass, she watched her two escorts in the corner of her eyes. She wanted the little knife that Malkov held. It was rather tiny, but apparently sharp enough to cut through wood like butter. Waiting for a moment when they were most relaxed to strike, Katarina knew she was running out of time before the nightmares that plagued her every night in that prison cell became a reality. 

Garen shifted feet slightly, and looked up to the sky for one reason or another, and it was during this lapse in attention that Katarina pounced towards Malkov. Garen managed to get his wits about him fairly quickly, and the chain jerked back as Malkov jumped back in surprise. Using the momentum of her jump, she managed to kick Malkov in the stomach before the chain stopped short, knocking him on his rear and winding him, and he dropped his end of the chain. She quickly twisted up from her prone position on the ground and spun around to face Garen, and then immediately dropped to a crouch to avoid his grab, then darted through his legs, taking the chain with her. 

Garen refused to let go of the chain, winding it around his hand instead, so Katarina dived to his left, pulling on it and sweeping his leg out from under him with it, causing him to crash to the ground. Still he did not let go of the chain. Taking Malkov’s chain, she swung it like a whip, striking Garen’s unprotected head. He raised his free arm to try to fend off the blows. 

She was suddenly tackled to the ground, and she realized Malkov had gotten up again and snuck up behind her. Wrestling for a grip on the chain, Malkov pulled away as soon as he had it, going back to the end of it and pulled her as far away from Garen as he could. Garen was now slowly picking himself back up, clutching his head with his free hand as he kept his grip on the chain with the other. 

“Okay, no more letting this go slack,” he grumbled through teeth gritted in pain. 

“Agreed,” nodded Malkov. 

They now resumed dragging her along, down the same hallway as before. Knowing what was coming, she kicked and struggled, but to no avail. She had thoroughly angered the two men, and they were not giving her even an inch of room to move with the chain. 

Once again, they reached the office building, and Katarina noticed now what she had not noticed before: Directly ahead, there were doors that lead out into a large front courtyard framed by massive gates beyond. Freedom: So close, and yet, so far. She was still chained to her escorts. 

They led her towards the side, to the spiralling stairs again. With the curve, they could no longer hold her quite so taut, and when a group of soldiers walked past, Katarina seized the opportunity in the tight quarters to jump onto a soldier, and using their combined weight, caused Garen who led to lose his balance, and the three of them tumbled down the steps, along with several guards. A frantic fight ensued as Katarina grappled Malkov, fishing in the pocket she had seen him pull the wood-carving knife out of, and was rewarded with the tiny thing, which she concealed in her balled fist as best as she could. By the time the guards had managed to peel her off of Malkov, the man had a bloody nose, and more than a few men would be sporting some terrible bruises soon. 

Malkov and Garen decided to swap out with some fresh guards, both exhausted and battered from her attacks. In addition, two more guards who had grabbed snare poles when the fight broke out, had said snare poles wrapped around her legs, and the four men half-carried, half-dragged her up to the second level. Passing the warden’s office, Katarina smugly noticed the new wood and knobs that had replaced the material she had damaged before. The door to the L-shaped room opened, and this time it contained a desk with a couple chairs behind it, facing the section that was not visible to the door. Rounding the corner, Katarina saw that the restraint chair was there. The sight of it gave her new, panicked energy as she desperately tried to escape the guards’ grasp, to no avail. She had to be careful not to reveal the knife in her hand. Regardless, the guards had their work cut out for them in subduing her, and every single restraint was fought to the bitter end until all she could do was hoarsely scream and spit in their faces as she struggled and strained in the chair. 

Garen, who had been nursing his head with a cold cloth, congratulated the guards, and excused them. He gave Katarina a mean smile. “Well, now you can sit and wait, and I’ll go and bring the prince.” With that, he also strode out. Now alone in the room, she grinned to herself and relaxed her hand. The tiny knife had lacerated her palm in the struggle, but she ignored the pain, and, readjusting it in her grip, curled her hand around to work at the restraint. 

******* 

It took her a good fifteen minutes to cut through the first strap - the knife was certainly sharp, but it was very small and the leather was well-hardened and tough. Finally, with her one hand free, she began to undo the rest of the straps by the buckles, wasting no more time on the knife. Her captors could be back any minute, and she didn’t plan to stick around to say hello. 

Nearly leaping out of the hellish chair, Katarina sprinted to the door, stopping to listen for noise. A guard walked down the hall, the footsteps clearly audible as they approached, and then faded as he continued past. Once all was quiet, she carefully looked out, and seeing no one, darted to the room next door. It was here that the next step in her plan became clear, as she had apparently found the closet of guard outfits. She wasted no time piecing together an outfit for herself. It was difficult to find pieces that fit her without looking strange, but there must be female guards somewhere in the regiment, for there were a few pieces that managed to only look somewhat loose on her. She ripped a piece of cloth from a shirt and tied up her hair to hide it in a helmet. The long, crimson hair was so iconic of her that she knew from experience that if someone was looking for her, they’d pass over anyone lacking it without a second thought. A second strip was torn from the shirt, and this she wrapped around her injured hand before putting on a gauntlet. Her outfit complete, she again approached the door. Hearing nothing, she opened it and walked out with the confidence of someone who belonged there. Taking another twenty paces, and walking right past another guard, nodding as he passed without concern, she entered the room that had been filled with prisoners’ belongings. With any luck, she might find her possessions here. 

Looking around inside, she realized it was roughly sorted by last name, alphabetically. Wasting no time, she made for the “C” section, and found the same box that was on the warden’s desk. Of course, the key was nowhere to be found this time, so she pulled out that tiny knife and began to work at picking the lock. 

A few minutes later her work was rewarded, and the box opened. She stuffed as many daggers behind the armor as she could safely conceal, but had to leave two behind, for there just was no space for them. Shrugging it off, for she could always get more once she returned home, she took them out of the box, put a smaller box of someone else’s things inside of it to give it weight, and locked it, then went and hid the two daggers in the back of the room, under old, dusty boxes that look like they’ve sat there, unclaimed, for years. Who knew if she’d be back here, looking for a weapon again. 

Approaching the door, she heard familiar voices: Garen, Malkov and most likely Jarvan and his bodyguard, Xin Zhao, had returned. They marched past the room, obviously going to the interrogation room, and as soon as they passed, she wasted no time in leaving the room and dashing back downstairs as fast as she could before the alarm could go out. _I’m a guard, I’m a guard, I’m a guard,_ she repeated to herself in her head as she passed various staff. Finally on the ground level, she had the feeling she couldn’t just bee-line for the exit without arousing suspicion, and so she walked up to the secretary. 

“Um, excuse me,” she asked nervously, in as clear a voice as her partially paralyzed vocal cords could, “W-warden Malkov sent me to you, to see if you had anything needing delivery into town. He instructed me to deliver things for my first shift.” 

“Oh! Absolutely, yes,” responded the secretary as if this was, thankfully, a perfectly normal first shift duty. Pulling out a small stack of mail, she handed it to Katarina. “This can go to the post office!” Katarina nodded her thanks to the secretary and hastily made for the exit. As Katarina left the building and jogged across the courtyard, the alarm bells started to ring. The guardsmen at the gate, seeing her stack of mail, let her, along with a small handful of other guards on their own errands, through before the massive, heavy gates were shut. With the penitentiary at her back and her heart racing leaps and bounds, she resisted the urge to cheer, and continued down the road, keeping up her display and mildly hoping she was walking in the direction of the post office, should anyone stop to question her before she could get out of sight.


	7. Chapter Seven

Sinking to her knees inside the safety of dense shrubbery of a quiet little park, Katarina took a few deep breaths, calming herself down. As the alarm bells of the penitentiary went off, she had witnessed firsthand the urgent rush of soldiers funneling into the area. Only with her disguise did she escape, and she realized that no matter how stealthy she was, if that disguise had not saved her, there would have been no way to find a nook or cranny that wasn’t being trampled by guards and soldiers all over, and she would never have made it out of the immediate vicinity of the prison. Even now, hours later, she could still hear the bells ringing, as the escaped prisoner had yet to be found. Thankfully, she suspected that they didn’t believe she was very far from the penitentiary, if she had even gotten out, for here, a good two hour’s march away, there were not many guards about, and the people still bustled about their business, though the ringing bells was the number one topic. 

Now, Katarina decided to wait out the day, removing the disguise, as she was certain a shadowy figure in an alleyway would be less easily spotted than a bulky guard in clanking armor. Having removed the armor, she adjusted her clothing and all of her daggers. Her clothing desperately needed a good wash, covered with grime and stained with blood. In fact, her whole body could use a relaxing bath. The bandage on her leg was in decent condition, the wound underneath it having finally healed, so she took this off and replaced the rudimentary cloth bandage around her freshly injured hand with it. As satisfied as she could be with her attire, she pulled out a dagger. Releasing her unkempt hair from its binding, she used the flat of her blade to get a look at herself. She looked awful. Her face was gaunt and dirty with a haunted look of recent trauma on it, with her hair being dull and frayed. With nothing better to do while waiting for the cover of darkness, she began to work at her hair with her hands, slowly working out each knot, sighing in relief. 

******* 

Darkness had finally fallen, and Katarina was just about to leave the safety of her bush and continue her trek out of the giant Demacian capital, when she heard a relatively loud voice. 

“Captain Ironhelm! Here, this park is mostly vacant. Your soldiers can set up camp here and patrol the area from this point. It’s a relatively central location, so it should suit you well.” 

“Very good, General Terev. Thank you. Hopefully we’ll catch the assassin, assuming she’s even gotten this far.” 

With that exchange, the one called Terev departed, and soldiers began pouring into the small park and setting up for the night, leaving her trapped in her bush and surrounded on all sides. For now, none of the soldiers seemed the least bit interested in the bush, as she had intentionally chosen a dense, thorny one, but she had no idea how long this camp would be here, and her stomach inconveniently reminded her she didn’t have all the time in the world to make her escape. 

The captain caught her attention, though, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. Something about him seemed familiar. Regardless, a captain is a captain, and a dead Demacian captain is always a good thing, so why not cut this one’s throat on her way out? 

While she waited for the make-shift camp to settle down, she suddenly remembered why this Ironhelm guy stood out to her: The original mission, the reason why she was in this hellhole in the first place, was to kill a captain named Ironhelm. What a lucky coincidence that he would happen to be here. Katarina resolved to make sure that guy was dead before morning. 

Two more hours of waiting, the camp had begun to settle down. About half of the soldiers had left on patrol, while the rest all slumbered, including the captain. Two guards were posted on watch duty, but, never expecting an attack from the inside, had their backs to the park, and to her. Two more guarded the captain’s tent entrance, and she shook her head at this. How do they never learn to also watch their backs? And the back of their tents? 

Stealthily, she crept towards the captain’s tent, ducking between the others, keeping herself out of the line of sight of the guards. At the back, she paused. The candle inside showed the silhouettes of objects, and the gentle snoring confirmed the man was asleep in his bedroll. Quietly, she cut a slit in the fabric, and slipped through. There Ironhelm lay, snoring deeply in his slumber. Grabbing a spare pillow, she placed it on his face gently, then cut his throat. The man awoke instantly, and she held his head down, muffling his choking and coughing as he tried to call for help in vain. Plunging the dagger into his chest, she pulled it out again, watching the blood pour out. Even if there were a doctor sitting next to her, this man would be dead within minutes. He gave one last dying effort to move, and managed to kick his clothes chest, creating a loud thud. 

Katarina could hear the guards outside stirring in suspicion, and one called in, “Sir? Are you alright?” Not wanting to risk if the guards would actually come and look inside, Katarina released her grip on the pillow and ducked out the slit in the back of the tent. She had to move quickly now, and get out of the park. Shouts came from the captain’s tent, and around her the sleeping men began to stir in alarm. One of the guards posted on watch at the perimeter was now within her sight, and she blink stepped behind him as he turned his attention to the noise, using daggers in both hands to slice his head cleanly off. Running across the road into a gap between two buildings on the other side of the road next to the park, she heard an arrow whistle behind her, hitting the wood siding. She knew that at least one person had spotted her, but could not afford to look behind her, and instead kept running. She had to get out of the city, but it was massive and she had very little sense of direction in the unfamiliar territory. The shouts continued behind her as she dashed down an alleyway, and now came around her as soldiers more familiar with their hometown ran down the streets in hot pursuit. The patrols all around were no doubt now aware that something was wrong, and their voices joined the communication as each soldier who spotted her fleeing figure tried to give directions to anyone in a good position. A trio of men rounded the corner and effectively blocked off her path in front of her, heavily armoured. Another blink step behind them left them bewildered at her ‘vanishing act’, at least until a voice further behind shouted to them, “behind you! Turn around!” 

For far too many minutes she ran, blink stepping behind whoever she spotted ahead, and cutting them up if she saw the quick opportunity, soldier and citizen alike. The whole area now was starting to crawl with soldiers as the news of the sighting spread like wildfire. In the distance, she could hear the clip-clop of horses, which, worryingly, were slowly getting louder as they narrowed in on their target. Dogs, too, were barking, and she could hear a couple, maybe ten paces behind her, snarling as they tried to close the gap. 

Ahead, on the other side of the alley, there was the next road she would cross, but all she could see beyond that was clear sky. Relieved that she might finally have reached an edge of town and escape into wilderness, her relief turned to horror when she reached the small wall blocking what was beyond: Ocean, not fields. Hesitating, she took a moment to change course and dash along what she now realized was the sea wall, but the delay cost her dearly: The dogs were upon her, and latching on with their jaws, dragged her down as they tried to shake her to death. Her daggers swinging out as she hit the ground, she was rewarded with a couple yips, and all save the dog trying its best to rip her leg off backed up, dancing and jumping around her, barking and trying to move in for a bite. Every time she tried to focus on one dog, two more would attack whatever portion of her she left unguarded while that one would back away. Now soldiers, both mounted and on foot, could be seen running towards her, cutting off any escape. With the dogs upon her, she could not get up and blink step, she could not get up and run. 

The horror she had endured for the last three weeks came back to her in a flood of memories as she felt panic taking over in her mind while the soldiers approached cautiously, wielding long snare poles. One bold individual made the first move, aiming for her head. Dodging the wire and finally kicking the dog at her feet hard enough to make it back off, she flung a dagger at the next approaching soldier, who moved so fast he both avoided the dagger, which sunk into the bloke behind him, and somehow caught her swinging arm with his noose, instantly tightening it and pinning her arm down. The first soldier, not giving up, took advantage of her distraction, finally wrapping his own snare pole around her head. Spurred onward by their two companions’ success, the rest joined in, and soon Katarina found herself unable to move, choking on about three snares around her neck alone. The dogs were called off, and she was dragged to a waiting prison carriage. 

As Katarina lay in the carriage, the snares were released one by one. The soldiers had already taken every single dagger from her. Exhausted and vastly outnumbered, she only held still. The apparent lack of shackles in this prison did not go unnoticed by her, so with any luck, she should just need patience to escape. No point in struggling now, when she had such an easy way out later. She was covered in blood, though most of it was not her own. Someone seemed to be bandaging the foot that had gotten mauled, though it was in so much pain she wasn’t sure. Her boot had taken the brunt of the attack, but the foot inside was still ripped to shreds. Much to her annoyance, she had noticed that it was on the leg that had not be shot and broken three weeks prior. If she was going to get away from this, she would not be doing so very quickly. That leg had healed decently, but even now, it burned in agony at the extended use so soon after forced rest. 

As the last noose came off, the soldiers very quickly closed and locked the door, trapping her inside, though with nothing actually attached to her. This was good. If she could spot the ideal target, she could blink step to safety. The wagon began to move now, and she heard the sounds of dozens of boots walking across the ground, along with the steady hoofbeats of the horses, as the soldiers escorted the wagon, undoubtedly back to the penitentiary. Carefully lifting herself up to the height of the tiny barred window on the back, but holding herself away from it, so as not to show her face to the dozens of soldiers behind the wagon, she watched the scenery roll by from the darkness of the box. 

She found that the farthest back soldiers were too far for her to blink step to, and if she blink stepped to the ones in front of those, then she would be seen instantly. Looking about, she saw on the side of the road various buildings, some of them having second floor balconies or unshuttered windows. If she could spot someone up there, maybe she could make her escape that way. Now that she was paying attention, she did notice that a good number of the buildings did have people in them, staring down in wonder and curiosity at this midnight procession. She spent fifteen minutes looking for one that was least likely to catch her, when she spotted him. An old man, with a hearing trumpet to his ear, sitting on his balcony alone. Hoping he didn’t have any family inside the building, she blink stepped to behind him, reappearing in the same crouch she was posed in inside the wagon. 

Carefully, she glanced inside, and found the man to be alone, and sighing in relief, she slipped inside, leaving the old man to continue gawking at the long parade. Creeping down the stairs to the first level, she found that the windows down there were, in fact, shuttered, so, listening for activity from the old man upstairs, she pilfered his kitchen, filling her belly with a much-needed meal and swallowing his kettle of tea. Grabbing a paring knife, she looked around the house for an exit other than the front door, and discovered a door through the pantry, which led to a small backyard. With the guards still marching past the house, Katarina decided to wait until their footsteps could no longer be heard. 

After many long minutes, she realized at this point that, with her supposed capture, the soldiers no longer needed to patrol the city, and were converging on the escort train and probably on the penitentiary. The train itself was still a fair distance away from its destination, and at worst, she had an hour to put as much distance between her and them as she could. Finally, now, the footsteps were receding, and she heard the old man shuffle into bed upstairs. Taking her cue, she exited through the back, and disappeared into the night.


	8. Chapter Eight

The last harvest was being brought in now, and the air was chilly and brisk. Katarina staggered along. It had been over a month since she escaped the clutches of the Demacians, and the weeks of travel through dangerous territory had exacted a toll on her. 

The dog bites she suffered from had quickly gotten infected, and barely outside of the Demacian capital, she had collapsed at one point with fever, and should have been dead if not for a kindly, and extremely naive, old lady, who found her and carried her to safety. In the old lady’s cottage, Katarina had recovered from her wounds, even as soldiers patrolled with frequency outside, and wanted posters bearing her visage appeared everywhere. 

With no way to repay her, Katarina simply left in the night - after helping herself to some of the lady’s food stores. She felt a little remorse for the theft, for undoubtedly the old lady would have given her a proper pack for her travels, but Katarina needed to leave in the night, which would have aroused suspicion, as the old lady probably would have expected her to travel on the heavily guarded road by day, after ‘the wolves had attacked her’. 

From there, her trek had been anything but easy, for she had to travel through dense forests and avoid people, driving her towards what few pockets of wilderness still remained in Demacia, and denying her opportunities to steal food and clean water. The wildlife had definitely tried to prey on her, and without her daggers, Katarina had very little way to defend herself. The paring knife got used, and became dull and difficult. 

Finally, she had to cross no-man’s land, the most dangerous stretch between Noxian and Demacian territory. It was open, all vegetation burned to the ground, and had many eyes from both sides watching it. For a week, she carefully picked her way back and forth on the Demacian edge of this wide swath of land. It was at least half a day’s travel to the other side at its shortest, and the various eyes watching this side would long spotted her before she even got that far. At some point, she did find a Demacian scout, and silently blink stepping behind him, she had grabbed his own dagger from its sheath and cut his throat before he even knew what had happened. From here, she armed herself, putting his leather armour on over top of her own, ragged clothes, and once again hiding her tell-tale hair in his helmet. Now she looked like a Demacian scout, and so long as she kept her distance, no one would be suspicious of her walking through their forests. 

After this, she had spotted a battle at one point as Demacians and Noxians clashed blades. This would be her chance to cross over into Noxian territory, but for now, she realized she had a fantastic opportunity. There were other scouts and archers in the trees of the forest she hid in, and they were shooting down Noxians. From her hiding place, she drew her own bow to add her piece to the battle, but this was aimed directly at the back of the neck of the Demacian general in charge. He had soldiers protecting him from the front, but of course, his back, deemed impossible to reach by any Noxian, was unguarded. _Again, with the never watching one’s back. You fools_ , she grinned as the arrow flew from her bow. It struck true, and the man fell forward with a gurgled scream. The effect was almost immediate, and the Demacian morale shriveled up and dried. A retreat was ordered, as the Noxians charged forward, fueled by the unexpected assassination. Only the rangers, safe in their forest, managed to escape the massacre that followed, and Katarina, after ripping off her disguise and replacing it with her own clothes, finally emerged from the safety of the dense foliage. As she approached the Noxian general, the soldiers stared at her in shock and awe. She realized her appearance must be fairly rough, and when General Vesuvius glanced in her general direction, he did a double-take before glaring at her with surprise. “Lady Du Couteau returns from the grave… Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He asked. 

“Supposed to be dead? Well, I did get close a couple times, and yet here we are,” she replied. She now realized why they were staring. No Noxian assassin or spy had ever been caught so close to the Demacian capital, and ever made it out alive before now. They were staring as if they had seen a ghost. 

“Well then,” recovered Vesuvius, “I suppose that will be two victories we shall celebrate tonight.” A cheer went up from the nearby soldiers. Katarina herself, however, suddenly felt dizzy, as the weeks of neglect and malnourishment caught up to her, and found herself falling to the ground. A nearby soldier realized she was falling, and she felt him catch her just before she blacked out. 

******* 

Now the regiment had begun securing the area and setting up camp at the location they were aiming for when they were cut off by the Demacians, and Katarina had awoken again at some point of the march. Hating to be carried, she insisted on walking, though she stumbled and staggered. Vesuvius had ordered two soldiers to help her, and they slowly walked alongside her, catching her if she should fall, as she still refused to so much as cling onto their offered arms. Finally arriving to a tent that had been set up for her, she gratefully accepted rations and water as a doctor checked her over, cleaning and bandaging her various wounds. 

Lying on a sleeping roll, she quickly lost herself to exhaustion, and for the first time in months, she slept in comfort and peace, without nightmares. 

******* 

The next morning, Katarina woke feeling refreshed and infinitely better. Walking with ease over to General Vesuvius’ tent, she found him already deep in his maps and his planning. Looking up from his work, he greeted her. “As soon as the area was secured last night, I had already sent reports of the day’s events, and also of your appearance, to Noxus Prime. I am certain Grand General Swain will want to speak with you directly for your account, though, so I have arranged for a horse to be ready for your departure at your earliest convenience.” 

“Very good. To the point, I like that. Thank you, I shall leave as soon as I’ve had a bite to eat, then,” Katarina replied. She looked forward to returning home and leaving the perils of the past months behind her. Most of all, she looked forward to a nice, hot bath and a clean change of clothes. 

Her breakfast swallowed down quickly, she located the horse. It had been smooth sailing from there, and one month later, she nearly wept with joy when she saw the walls of Noxus Prime in the distance. Soon, she passed under the great gates as she cantered up the streets to the castle. She wished she could have stopped at the Du Couteau manor for a rest and a clean up since it was late in the night, but figured her report was of greater importance. 

******* 

Katarina’s stomach was uncomfortable as she marched up the stairs to Swain’s office. She was somewhat unfamiliar with the sensation, but imagined that if she ever had ‘the butterflies’ or whatever people called it, this might be it. She had no idea why she was not at ease, there was no reason for it. She had noticed an unusual stillness in the streets below, and even here, in the castle, not a single person was to be seen. Certainly, the moon was high in the sky, but she expected there to be at least guards visible in their watches. 

Hesitating, she knocked on the beautifully carved oak doors of Swain’s office, and she heard a voice from inside call her in. It was definitely not Swain’s voice. This was smooth like silver, and female, while Swain had a very male, raspy call. Hiding her wariness, she stepped inside, and was greeted by a beautiful lady, who smiled sweetly at her. “Didn’t even stop to clean up? You must have something important to say.” Katarina looked down at herself. It was true, her outfit was beyond unrecognizable, and she was far from clean. “Yes, but my news is for Swain,” Katarina replied. “Where is he?” 

“He is out, currently attending to other matters. He will be back soon, and has left me to watch over his office and address anyone coming, such as yourself.” 

“Then I shall wait for his return,” answered Katarina, and she sat down on one of the various couches in the office. 

The woman watched her for a minute, before continuing. “Of course, it is highly unusual that you stand before me, Katarina. The Demacians were very quick to brag about your capture, and the news reached our ears months ago. You were in the Demacian penitentiary, a place of certain death for any and all Noxian assassins such as yourself. And yet you are here. Not dead. Do you know why? You most certainly do. But don’t worry, so do we.” 

Here, Katarina heard the slight shift in the woman’s tone, and she became increasingly suspicious. Katarina was now convinced this woman had malicious intentions, but before she could react, glowing chains appeared around her, pinning her to the couch. “What is the meaning of this?” Katarina demanded, “Where is Swain?” 

“He is away, like I said,” replied the woman calmly. She approached now with a silk cloth in hand, pouring something from a small flask over it. Holding it over Katarina’s face, Katarina could smell the ether in the rag, and she struggled and screamed to get it off her face. The ether’s effect took its toll, and she lost consciousness.


	9. Chapter Nine

“Well, here she is, in the flesh. Not only is she inconveniently alive, but she somehow escaped an inescapable prison. I suspect she’s a double-crossing bitch.” 

The woman’s voice woke Katarina again, and sensing great danger, she remained still, pretending to sleep as the conversation continued. 

“Just because you lost someone in your order in that penitentiary, doesn’t mean it’s inescapable. Still, a story filled with lies or not, I still want to hear it. Then we can do away with her, and the political unrest will sort itself out.” This was unmistakably Swain speaking, and the words he had just spoken were the ugliest Katarina had ever heard from him. What was going on in the High Command? Why was her being alive such bad news to him and whoever the woman was? 

“Wake her up, I think we’re ready to begin,” Swain commanded. Katarina could feel the woman pinch her cheeks, slap her, and splash her face in cold water. Katarina ‘woke up’, coughing at this and finally opened her eyes to look around. They were in some small, dark room with only a single candle for light, sitting on a desk in front of her. Behind that desk sat Swain, his features flickering in the light. Katarina realized she was chained down to a chair with the same glowing chains as before, and unable to move save for her head. Two figures stood in the shadows to her left and right, and though she was sure one of them must be the woman, she could not make out any discernible features. 

“What is going on?” Katarina asked. Ignoring the question, Swain motioned to the two figures, and they both stepped forward. As they became more visible in the light, she realized they appeared to be twins right down to the minute detail. In fact, they were so similar she could not pick a single detail from them that was different from the other. It was the same woman, and apparently an identical twin sister. One of them suddenly wrenched Katarina’s head backwards painfully, holding it in place as she stared at the ceiling, while another forced her mouth open, shoving a metal funnel down her throat. A liquid was poured, and no mercy or emotion showed in her tormentors’ faces as she was forced to watch in horror. 

The bottle empty, the funnel was removed and her head released. She tried to retch to get whatever was just forced into her stomach to come back up, but to no avail, and all she could do was sit there with a horrified look on her face as she awaited whatever would happen next. 

She felt a numbness come over her, and found it difficult to form a thought. Swain finally started speaking, and his voice was loud and clear in her head. Unbidden, words started coming out of her own mouth in response, and helpless to stop herself, she answered every question, giving a full recount of the events. _Why did you need to do this? This was information I would have given anyway_ , she thought in dismay. 

After she had finished with her coming to Vesuvius’ camp, Swain asked her who knew she was alive. “Vesuvius and his soldiers saw me. Whoever would have been on the road as I rode to Noxus would have seen me, though there were not many. And you.” 

She had a suspicion why he was asking this, which he immediately confirmed as he turned to the twins. “Well, that’s easy enough. I think we have our bait soldiers to frontline that plan of ours. They most certainly will be dead, and dead men tell no tales. Speaking of that, I think we are finished here. Good bye, Katarina.” 

One of the twins vanished, and the other stepped forward, a mean looking dagger in hand. This she slipped into Katarina’s back while Swain excused himself, leaving the room. The woman watched Katarina bleed, writhing silently in pain, and the last memory Katarina had was of falling out of the chair as the chains disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the 6-month delay, this really was a bad chapter to pause on. Here comes the rest!


	10. Chapter Ten

Katarina came to coughing and choking, her mouth tasting like blood and her chest in immense pain. She opened her eyes groggily and thought she saw a snake, before losing consciousness again. 

Her mind swam with confusing images, and memories warped and flashed together in a nightmarish fashion. Finally she awoke again, breathless, snapping her eyes open, and staring at the face of the snake again. The human face, with the human torso and snake body. “C-cass?” she asked, coughing as blood emerged from her mouth. 

“No, don’t move!” squeaked Cassiopeia. “Oh dear goodness, I thought you were dead! You WERE dead, Kat! Your heart stopped! Your breathing stopped! Talon brought in a corpse!” Here Cassiopeia trailed off crying, and bent down to cradle Katarina’s head in her hands. 

“But she’s not dead, and if you would stop your fussing and step aside, I can do my work to make sure she stays alive!” The owner of the voice came into Katarina’s field of view, a wrinkled old doctor. Talon also came into view, putting his arm around Cassiopeia and pulling her away, murmuring to her, “come on, let the doctor do his work. She’ll be okay.” 

Katarina didn’t see or hear much more than this, for she passed out once again. 

******* 

Someone was very gently brushing the side of her face, slowly waking her up. “Mmm… ten more minutes, I’ll get up in ten minutes…” she mumbled. The bed was so very soft and warm, and she very much wanted to stay in it. 

She hear a snicker at this, and she snapped her eyes open in annoyance, ready to tell whoever it was off. She could see both Cassiopeia and Talon smiling down at her, and she realized she was in her own bed. “Well hello, sunshine,” Talon teased. “It’s been about three days since I found you. Care to have anything to eat?” 

“Mmm, uh, sure.” She was pretty hungry, now that attention had been brought to the matter. Grabbing her gently, they lifted her into a more upright position, fixing the pillow behind her. She gasped as her back and chest both flared in pain at the movement. “You had a nasty wound in the back, though whoever did it doesn’t know anything about daggers or stabbing people. You were very lucky, they completely missed your heart and only scratched a lung, so the doctor says,” Talon continued, as Cassiopeia placed a tray of food on Katarina’s lap and snuggled up close, brushing her hair. 

“What happened?” Katarina asked, “I am pretty sure I should be dead right now.” 

“Huh! I should be asking the same of you! You went on that fucking mission of yours, and two and a half months later I’m reading in the paper that you’ve been captured! The next I hear or see of you, someone is dumping you in the moat!” 

“I’ll be honest, I can explain the rest, but I don’t know about the moat.” 

“Well of course not, you weren’t awake. So I’ve got my own body to dispose, and I’m about to do it, when I hear someone else dragging something heavy barely twenty feet from my hiding place. A cloaked figure, got a glimpse of her face as she looked around all paranoid, but I swear I’ve never seen her before, and lo and behold she is dragging your dead body! So as soon as she disappeared, I ran over and fished you out, and carried you all the way back to the manor!” 

“Did anyone see you carrying me?” 

“Hell no, of course not. If someone wants you dead, I don’t want to get their attention.” 

“Okay, he told you what happened, now it’s your turn, Kat,” Cassiopeia interrupted. 

“Can I eat first?” 

“Fine.” Cassiopeia frowned, and stared at her with the frown as she ate, cross-armed and clearly impatient. Katarina ate as quickly as she could, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stall much longer before these two would get her horrible story out of her. Talon stretched out on the bed beside her, hands tucked behind his head. When Katarina had eaten her fill, she retold the events for a second time. Cassiopeia and Talon listened intently, questioning her for clarification here and there. Finally, she reached the point she had gotten back to Noxus when she paused. 

Shaking her head, in confusion, she started. “I… am not sure what was going on, but things got very strange when I entered that palace. For one, no guards were about, but I ignored it, and ignored my gut instinct telling me to run. Why would I have any reason to be suspicious? I get to Swain’s office, and he’s not there. Some woman is. She says something along the lines of how I’m supposed to be dead, having been caught by Demacian forces. Next thing I know, I’m wrapped in magical chains and she knocked me out with ether.” 

“What? Wait, where was Swain, then? Does he know what happened?” Both Talon and Cassiopeia looked shocked. 

“Oh, he does,” Katarina answered bitterly, “oh, he does. I wake up, and I’m again in magical chains, on a little chair in a dark tunnel - probably the catacombs somewhere - and he’s there along with the woman, except there’s two of her? It was weird, they looked exactly the same without a single difference. Well, they forced a potion to get me talking down my throat, and Swain basically asked me for an account of what happened.” 

“But you would have told him that anyway!” 

“Yes, I know! But it wasn’t the only reason I was down there. Next he asks how many people saw me, and I tell him it’s just been Vesuvius and all his men, maybe the odd person on the horse ride, and him. And the women with him. That seems to satisfy him, and I think he wants that whole regiment dead now, because he’s going to put them on the front line as bait. Then he leaves, and one of the women stabs me, and, well, I would say, I died, but I appear to be alive now.” 

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Cassiopeia protested, “I think a normal person would be happy to see you alive, not want you dead!” 

“He said something very strange, and very alarming, when he thought I was still asleep, which I think has something to do with it. He seemed very unhappy that I was alive. I’m pretty sure he meant for that mission to kill me.” 

Talon snorted at this. “Obviously.” 

Katarina narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed. “He also mentioned political unrest. Somehow, I’m involved in that, too, without even knowing it.” 

Cassiopeia snapped her fingers. “Aha! Actually, I think I might know a thing or two about that. Comes with socializing in the upper circles, you know? Or, at least, lurking around eavesdropping. I don’t really… socialize anymore.” 

Cassiopeia paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Of course, not everyone is happy with Swain’s rule. Every ruler has his flaws, though things are pretty bad at the moment, above and beyond the usual grumblings. Wars are failing, exports are at an all time low, poverty, plague, and famine are absolute scourges all over right now, and crime’s horrendous. So, naturally, the High Command’s unhappy with the Grand General, and rumour has it they are trying to manipulate the situation to get him demoted. Such as Mulligan Henderson! He was Grand General Darkwill’s nephew, so the High Command did everything in their power to get him onto the High Command, as unqualified as he was, only to find him in the middle of a bloody massacre three days into the job. Rumor has it Swain got all paranoid and had him done in.” 

Katarina cleared her throat at this. “Uh, well, I can actually confirm that it was a sanctioned assassination ordered by Swain… I did it.” 

Cassiopeia stared at her. “The implications. Huh, well, then Swain is definitely paranoid about competition for his position. That’s not just rumours, then. Mulligan Henderson was probably one of the only people who could have challenged him, besides General Darius, and everyone knows that’s not going to happen. He’s pretty much Swain’s loyal lapdog. Then, well, if anyone knew where he was, our father would probably be in that chair instead of Swain right now.” Cassiopeia’s face hardened into a scowl at this. Katarina knew she craved as much power as possible. “Anyways, my best guess is Swain’s over-the-top paranoid about competition, so he probably was trying to get you killed, since you’re technically on the High Command, and you probably stand a good chance in a duel against him.” 

Katarina groaned at this. “Ugh, I don’t even want that position! No, Cass, stop giving me that look, that job is not my style! How can I beat the message into his head that I’m not after his seat?” 

“I think he already knows that, at the very least. Your behaviour when you’re at a meeting of the High Command is appalling, I’ve heard. I think he’s more worried he’s going to wake up dead with your dagger in his back one day.” 

“Hmph, well, until now, the thought never even crossed my mind,” Katarina scowled darkly. “Talon, you never found anything about father within Swain’s realm, did you?” 

Talon shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think I found everything, though, but what I did find showed no signs of his involvement with General Du Couteau.” They fell silent, reflecting on the situation for a few minutes, or in Katarina’s case, fighting off her weariness, as she seemed to have lost all her stamina and had the greatest urge to just curl up into her soft bed. 

“Well, now what?” Talon finally spoke. “We can’t go on being hunted for reasons we don’t even know about. We need to set up some sort of peace treaty, or at the very least, give him a reason to want you alive.” 

“Hmm,” thought Cassiopeia. “I honestly don’t have any ideas. I think we should lay low until we figure something better out. For now, we pretend you’re dead and never showed up here, so we don’t have to worry about further assassination attempts, and also to stick with the story that’s being told to the public: That you probably died in Demacia.” 

Cassiopeia looked down at Katarina, sunken into the pillows. She had closed her eyes, and was now sleeping again. “Oh. Well, no matter, staying right where you are is all you need to do right now anyway. Leave the rest to us.” 

Carefully, Cassiopeia and Talon got off the bed, making sure to not disturb her, and snuck out of the room, taking the empty breakfast tray with them.


	11. Chapter Eleven

As the days passed, Katarina’s health improved, and she was now barely able to stand and walk for a few minutes before her chest would sear in pain from the exertion. The staff had been restricted from entering Katarina’s room save for the doctor, who the Du Couteaus had hired for many years, and trusted to keep a secret. 

When one of the cleaning maids entered the room, Katarina was instantly suspicious. She recognized the woman as one of her long-time staff, Patricia, but her behaviour was definitely off, and seemed very mechanical. Pretending to still be asleep, Katarina watched her like a hawk, and the woman spotted her lying in bed. Stumbling over, trying (and failing absurdly) to be stealthy, Patricia pulled out a large kitchen knife, and it was then when Katarina saw her eyes: White and glossed over. She was being mind-controlled, albeit crudely. 

Katarina rolled out of the way as the woman’s arm moved downward, then grabbed her wrist before Patricia could move. “Sorry, Pat,” Katarina whispered as she took the knife out of her inept hands, plunging it deep into the woman’s heart. “You didn’t deserve to go this way.” 

******* 

Cassiopeia was furious when she saw what had transpired. “Kat, why did you do this?” she hissed. “Why is your first reaction to any problem is to stab it? Don’t you ever think? What are we going to do now, hmm?” 

“She was trying to kill me! What was I supposed to do, holler for help? That would have alerted the other staff who aren’t supposed to know I’m here!” Katarina tried to explain. 

“Use the other end of the knife, stupid! Whack her in the head, knock her out! But no, now we’ve got a lot of explaining to do if someone asks about her!” 

“It’s okay, Cass. I can make the body disappear, and her death doesn’t have to be connected to us - no one knows where each body in the moat came from.” This was Talon, who, even as he spoke, had begun rolling the body up into the now-bloodied carpet. “I think Kat needs to stay in a different room, though, and we can set up a dummy under her blankets. I’ll wait in ambush to see if anyone else shows up in her room. We’ll have to check each staff member as they come in for work, until this storm subsides.” 

“But what about whoever this was that was controlling Patricia? They know what happened!” 

“They can’t say anything without admitting how they know. At worst for us, Kat can plead self-defense, which happens to be true, and at best, whoever mind-controlled Patricia gets in a lot of trouble, and the plot to kill Kat gets exposed. The nightmare ends.” 

Finally Cassiopeia was silent, still fuming, but less so. “How did they know to check, though? That’s worrying.” 

“The doctor’s been coming and going, and undoubtedly they’ve been spying on the manor. I think it would be an easy guess to say who the doctor might be visiting, since you and I are healthy.” 

“Fine. I’ll move Kat, you set up your trap, and then we need to come up with a plan for the next step. I’m going to keep brainstorming ideas.” 

“I wonder if, after this, calling a truce might be an option we can explore again?” Katarina mumbled. “I mean, whoever’s after me would know I’m alive, they can see through their mind-controlled victim’s eyes. So it’s not a secret anymore.” 

“Hmm, we need some set-up first. Give him motivation to talk to us.” Cassiopeia mulled for a bit, deep in thought. After several minutes of thinking, she spoke again. “I think we can play off of your fame, Kat. The people of Noxus idolize you. People were absolutely nuts and I hear we suffered major losses just from low morale alone right after your capture. If we spread the rumour that your mission was meant to kill you, that Swain was trying to get you killed, it’ll drive them to rioting. They’ll be demanding his head. It may force his hand to have to prove that you are alive just to get his empire back in line and keep his seat. It’s a stretch, but I think it’s worth a try.” 

******* 

Katarina now resided in Cassiopeia’s room, with the two sharing her bed. Cassiopeia insisted on this, so that she’d be right there with Katarina if anyone with malicious intent showed up. Talon had disposed of the body without incident, and only the other cleaning staff inquired where Patricia was, with only uncertain shrugs being given in answer. The woman had lived by herself, having lost most of her close family years ago, and never marrying. Katarina remembered how she would joke that the trio were like her children to her, and that had been enough. She really did not deserve to die at one of their hands. 

Talon’s trap had worked, and he reported that the same woman as who dragged Katarina to the moat had shown up in the middle of the night two nights after the incident. She had attacked the lump of pillows under the blankets with magic, and distracted with her deed, did not notice Talon jumping upon her. He managed to severely injure her, raking a dagger from shoulder to pelvis as he dropped down from the rafters, before the witch disappeared in thin air with an agonized scream. Whether she died, Talon could not confirm, suspicious that she may have had magical help before the wound could kill her. After that, no more attacks came to the manor, and none of the staff showed up mind-controlled. 

In the following weeks, Cassiopeia had worked hard at getting the rumor spread, starting with an interview with Talon getting published in the paper. The fruits of her labour exploded with growth as people began to flock to the manor gates, offering condolences and getting riled up over Swain’s treachery. As more details began to unfold, the High Command fell apart, paranoia and accusations being hurled in all directions as each member began to fear for his or her own life. Chaos at all levels of society quickly followed. 

Four weeks in, Katarina was nearly recovered from the stab wound, and was going stir-crazy inside Cassiopeia’s room, unable to leave it lest someone see her. One night, after the staff had been sent home, she did allow herself this chance to walk about the large house, and the three of them eventually found themselves sitting around the fireplace, as Cassiopeia tirelessly poured over her notes, trying to piece together a way to strategically initiate the truce. Now, in the near-total anarchy, would be a good time to step forward and reveal that Katarina was alive, but they were at a loss at how to approach the matter. 

In the middle of their discussion, a loud knock came from the front door, and Cassiopeia went to answer, with Talon and Katarina waiting in the shadows, expecting the worst. It was only the second-worst. 

“Good evening, Lady Du Couteau,” General Darius politely greeted Cassiopeia, one of the very few people who had the grace to never stare at her serpentine figure. “May I come in? I have important matters to discuss with you and your family.” 

Hesitant, but unable to turn down the high-ranking general, Cassiopeia nodded. “Of course, come in,” she replied, motioning towards the couches around the fireplace. Talon came into view, giving a short nod to Darius, playing off that he had just come from elsewhere in the house and sat across from him, while Katarina stayed hidden, daggers drawn and ready to blink step. In with Darius came a servant holding a small chest. 

Cleaning up the papers strewn about, Cassiopeia opened up the conversation. “So, what brings you here tonight, General?” 

“Swain does,” replied the general bluntly. “He says he apologizes he could not make it in person, for apparently he fears you would attack him. He has asked me to forward a message to you.” Darius rolled his eyes, obviously not appreciative of his current role as messenger boy. 

“Hmm, very well, what is his message?” Cassiopeia asked slowly. 

“He’d like to apologize to Katarina, who he informed me is alive.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, however, our trust has been severely shattered. The apology is acknowledged, but his actions speak much louder than his words, and at the moment, they are in deep contrast with one another.” 

“Hmph, well, here’s an ‘action’ you might appreciate.” Darius motioned to the servant, who stepped forward, placing the chest on the short table. Darius opened it, revealing that it was filled with coin. The amount was sizeable, and the servant could not help but stare with much longing in his face. “This is payment for Katarina’s last mission, as well as extra compensation to make up for the endangerment to her life.” 

Cassiopeia pondered this for a minute. “It still doesn’t guarantee the end of the attacks, though. What does he have to say about that? About the woman who keeps infiltrating the manor?” 

Darius blinked in surprise. “I’m not entirely sure I know what you’re talking about. I was not informed about any such attacks. Are you certain they were sent by Swain?” 

“How do you think he knew she was alive, and sent you here with this message?” 

A snort came from Darius. “A fair point. Well, whether or not he wanted her dead before, that is certainly not the case right now. I’m sure you’re aware of the political climate right now - people are rioting. The High Command is an absolute mess; they’re at each other’s throats over this scandal. Katarina’s likely death was a crippling blow to morale, and when it was implicated that Swain had intentionally tried to get her killed, all hell broke loose. Swain’s desperate, and his only available answer is to show that Katarina is alive, and that he did not get her killed.” 

A silence followed as Cassiopeia carefully contemplated these words. “Very well, then what we would want is a party celebrating her return, as public as possible. The whole world shall know she is alive. And if Swain attempts to make her disappear again, he will not be able to say she died in the hands of the Demacians. He shall have to answer for his actions.” 

Darius considered this. “Certainly. I shall bring the request to him.” The conversation was wrapped up quickly after this, and then Darius and his servant left. “A party? Do you really think that’s going to work, Cass?” Katarina asked, coming out from her hiding place. 

“I think so. If a big deal is made of it, and as many people as possible physically see you here, home, then it will be much harder to blame the Demacians if something were to happen to you afterwards. Swain will have a much harder time hurting you.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

By the end of the next day, plans were in place for a party to celebrate Katarina’s return, and by the time the celebration came five days later, the news had spread through Noxus Prime like wildfire. Everyone was in high spirits having one of their war heroes back, and not even the cold weather was able to dampen the mood. 

Having arrived hours early at the palace, Katarina watched as the vast ballroom slowly filled, and a countless number of individuals all approached her over time, wanting to say their piece, and to ask questions both genuine, and inappropriate. Katarina wished she had her sister next to her for this. She was much better suited to the task, a talented aristocrat. But Cassiopeia, believing herself to be hideous, refused to come out of hiding, only giving Katarina a final lesson on socializing before Katarina had departed for the party, as if she hadn’t spent the past week trying to train her just for this. So, with only a silent Talon by her side, Katarina did her best to wade through the sea of chatter. 

Finally, Swain entered, standing on the stage. Katarina knew the schedule of events for the evening, and knew she would have to stand on that stage next to him at some point in his speech. However, this being the first time since she’d actually set eyes on the old man since he tried to have her killed, she was very uncomfortable with the idea. _“Don’t worry. It’d be political suicide if something were to happen to you on that stage,”_ Talon whispered into her ear, sensing her unease. It was true. With so many eyes on her, if Swain still had malicious intentions, he would at least not be able to act on them right now. 

Finishing the story of her return, which was a crafted lie that they had come up with, Swain welcomed Katarina to the stage, and it was only Talon locking arms with her and forcing her to walk forward with him that got her onto that stage. She managed a mechanical smile towards Swain as he said something she didn’t hear, and managed a wave to the now cheering crowd. When the noise died down, she was at last allowed to leave the stage, as Swain said the final words, “and now, let the feasting begin!” 

As soon as eyes were no longer on them, Katarina spun around to Talon. “We need to sneak out for a minute. I need space, now.” 

Understanding her panic, Talon nodded and they quickly snuck out into the gardens, where she crouched down, trying to steady her breathing as she slowly ripped up grass. Cassiopeia appeared from wherever she had been hiding, spying on the whole event. 

“Heh, you looked like you were gonna rip his head off, Kat,” Talon teased. Alarmed, she looked up at him. “Was it obvious?” 

“Ugh, no. Talon, stop bothering her. You did fine. Maybe Swain got the message that you really don’t like him, but I don’t think anyone in that crowd’s got a sharp enough head on their shoulders to see much more than a little stage fright,” Cassiopeia assured her, glaring at Talon. “Okay, just focus on getting yourself together. It’s easy enough to disappear from the party if you’re the average guest, but when the party is about you, you’ve got like four minutes tops before people start wondering.” 

“I don’t know how you do it, Cass. There were some idiots I really wanted to punch in the face.” 

“I do it by punching them in the face!” Katarina and Talon looked at Cassiopeia blankly. “Not literally! Verbally! Socially! It’s a fine art of back-handed insults and quick, witty jabs to teach people when they’ve gone too far.” Their still-bewildered expressions told Cassiopeia that the two assassins really did not understand. Katarina stood up again. “Okay, I think I’m ready to go back in there. I might be able to get some food down.” 

“Don’t eat too much! It’s rude for the guest of honour to be stuffing her face while people try to talk to her. And remember how to eat, properly! You can’t just shovel food into your mouth!” Cassiopeia called after her as they walked away, before slithering back into hiding. 

******* 

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Katarina found herself very bored as the pointless chitchat continued for hours. They had both eaten until they were stuffed over the time, and no doubt Katarina would be getting an earful from her sister when she returned home. As the party died down very late in the night, Darius sat himself down across from the duo, excusing the over-bearing nobleman that had occupied their time for the past half hour. 

“Well, lovely party, isn’t it?” he stated. She gave him a single nod, eyebrow raised. “Drop the formalities before I go insane, what is it?” 

Darius gave a knowing smirk. “With your returning to Noxus, it is expected you’ll be returning to your position on the High Command, yes?” 

“Oh, yes, why?” 

“I figured you’d probably want to know there will be a strategic meeting tomorrow afternoon at 3 o’clock, and that all military members are to be present for it.” 

“Oh,” Kat frowned. Of course it would be Darius who would bring business to a party. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to be there.” 

With a short nod, Darius got up and excused himself, apparently having nothing else to say to her. She rolled her eyes behind his back as he walked off. 

******* 

Groggily, Katarina stepped up the stairs to the High Command’s council room, a large, ominous cavern inside the very top of the mountain upon which Noxus rested. She had only managed to escape the party in the early hours of that morning, and fell asleep as soon as she had arrived home, barely cleaning up. It had been Talon’s knocking on her door, reminding her she had somewhere to be in just an hour that had woken her up, and she had rushed to get even somewhat presentable. 

The large stone doors were in sight now, with four guards standing in front of them. Their sight made her feel a little more at ease - perhaps their presence was a sign that this really was a meeting, and not another trap. Still, she was loath to leave her weapons with them before entering. They bowed their heads toward her respectfully, and the captain, Reagan was his name, greeted her, “Lady Katarina du Couteau, a pleasure to see you again. Once you’ve left your weapons with us, you may enter.” 

They exchanged a grin, as they both knew what this meant, and it took her several minutes to actually remove every dagger on her, with another, older Command member patiently waiting behind her. “Couldn’t have left all that at home, young lady?” he remarked, though he already knew the answer from experience. 

Feeling much lighter, and also much more vulnerable, Katarina entered the cavernous room from which nearly every order that Noxus followed came. Lit with enchanted green candles that cast a sickly, cold hue on everything inside, it was not a particularly inviting room. She took her seat in the outer edge of chairs. In the inner ring sat the generals who were already assembled, arranging and reading over their notes. These were the bigwigs, the highest rankings of the Noxian government, the ones who would do the most talking in a meeting. Around them in the outer ring were lesser government officials, such as herself. She never had much aspiration to lead, and only did what she had to in order to keep her position - her family’s position. It was still a step down from her father’s position, though. General Darius now occupied that seat, much to her annoyance. What business did he, a big dumb brute who chopped people’s heads off if he didn’t get his way, have being in charge of intelligence? This still irritated her, and she was certain it was meant to be an insult from Swain to Darkwill, the Grand General he replaced. 

But it had never been her position or right to complain. Indeed, the lesser officials were, in her opinion, nothing more than glorified messengers, dispersing and executing the orders that the generals came up with, and were rarely called upon in these meetings, and yet expected always to attend. She could fall asleep in her chair and no one would care enough to notice. 

As the last of the small assembly took their positions, Swain entered the room, and everyone immediately stood up to salute. Katarina was a half-second slower than she liked, momentarily forgetting the etiquette that had been drilled into her by her father after being away for so long. Only after Swain was seated in his throne did he give the nod for everyone else to return to their own seats. Once the room was settled barely five seconds later, he began, sparing no detailed words. 

“On our agenda, we finally have details on the sudden uprising of Shurimans, a status report on the barbarian extermination along the Freljord front, and interrogations results.” 

This went on for several more minutes, and already bored, Katarina was slowly sinking in her chair as her eyelids grew heavy from exhaustion. As nothing he and the other generals sitting at the center table caught her attention, it wasn’t long before she was actually sleeping. 

She awoke with a jump when Swain had suddenly started shouting, and caught sight of the Grand General staring down one of the other generals. General… Chowder? Chandar? Chandler. She only barely remembered he was involved in the Freljord operation. The man did not look happy now, doing his best to sink into his seat and appear small, and, visible to her fine eyes, he was shaking under the wrathful glare of Swain. Swain continued to yell. “You’ve been in the Freljord for how long now? And a bit of bad weather caught you unawares? Unbelievable!” The room was deathly silent. Only General Darius was still looking relaxed; everyone else were sitting up, stiff as boards and looking like they had just stared death in the face. _And this is why I don’t want that job, Cassiopeia,_ Katarina thought grimly. She knew the man was dead the next time he would run into Darius. The brute had a nasty habit of ‘making an example’ of anyone who couldn’t meet the impossibly high standard of perfection. 

After an uncomfortable silence, Swain regained his composure, and turned to speak to the room at large. “Alright, some good news, which I actually have.” He shot a look of disgust at Chandler before continuing. “My informants have uncovered some top secret information in Demacia, and I think this could be our chance to bring them to their knees.” Finally, the room began to relax, held breaths being cautiously released. “Indeed, the king will be sending his precious prince away from the citadel for the coming spring. Reasons are unknown, but the Demacians have labeled it ‘Operation Trophy’. My informants have discovered that orders are being sent to set up a guarded corridor for his safe travels to Demacia’s southern lands. It’s an incredible waste of resources, so this is a significant trip. But, it does mean that it would be difficult to capitalize on him being out in the open.” 

Swain now placed markers on the map that occupied the center table, in addition to the ones already on it: the locations of enemies and ally forces. “I’ve mapped his route to determine where best we might attack him, take a look,” he gestured to the generals. 

To the complete exclusion of the outer ring of attendants, the generals deliberated and discussed their options, each eager to mastermind the strategy that would remove Jarvan the Fourth’s head from his shoulders. As they droned on again, Katarina once again slunk back down in her seat and closed her eyes, dozing off. When she was awakened again by a quick jab from the man sitting next to her, she had barely a second to regain her composure as General Darius shifted in his seat to face her. 

“Well, since this mission is more your kind of thing, do you want to take it? Or shall I find someone else to do it?” 

Katarina had no idea what mission he was talking about, but determined not to admit she had not been paying attention, she nodded. “Yes, I’d be happy to go rain death on the prince’s party, sir.” _They were still talking about the prince’s trip, right?_

“Already raring to get back out there on the field. Excellent, I like your attitude,” Darius gave an approving nod. Outwardly, she grinned back at him. Inwardly, she was panicking. What did she just agree to? 

******* 

According to the generals, the mission was ‘exceedingly simple’: Sneak into enemy territory, travel to one of two possible locations, find the prince, kill him. Katarina was pretty sorry to read over the mission briefing she had been given. It was very clear to her that the generals had no idea how difficult and complicated each of the four ‘simple’ steps were, none of them having any experience in subterfuge. _If my father was in that blockhead’s seat, there’d actually be a well-thought-out mission on this shoddy paper_ , she thought to herself bitterly. 

Despite his absurd confidence in her abilities and the ‘plan’ which apparently was mostly of his creation, Katarina managed to convince Swain to grant her additional resources, namely a magical artifact kept in the High Command’s collection, and stern instructions on how to use it: Stuff hair from someone into the locket, wear it around one’s neck, transform to look like that someone else. Don’t use non-human hair. 

Feeling better having such a good disguise, Katarina left for the mission the very next day.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Using a battle as a distraction, Katarina managed to sneak across no-man’s land undetected, and had smooth sailing for about two days. The battle’s location was further north than she would have liked, but she could pick no other way across safely. On the second morning, snow began to fall, and by night, she was struggling against a blizzard. With no other option, for she risked freezing to death in the snow, she was forced towards a Demacian hamlet to seek refuge until the storm abated. Carefully, she approached one small hut towards the edge of the town, a warm glow from inside inviting her towards it. Scouting around it, she found the back door to be completely snowed in, leaving the front as the only way in. 

Sticking her ear to the door to listen, she heard a small family saying their good-nights. They sounded like simple folk, easy to take down, and in this storm, there would be no-one around to hear their screams. Having waited until the voices died down, she was just about to try opening the door, when she heard a “Ho, there!” accompanied now by the soft crunch of boots in snow. Spinning around, she came face to face with a man in official-looking attire, a soldier or guard. “If yer lookin’ fer a place t’ stay, there’s the fort at th’ center o’ town,” he declared. Covered up as she was in winter gear, she realized he had not immediately recognized her, but, unable to turn down the offer - for it was the only logical course of action that wouldn’t immediately make him suspicious, she nodded to him, stepping in the deep tracks he plowed. 

Heart racing as she followed from behind, she stuffed whatever hair was still visible on her face into her hood, and could only hope the man didn’t notice the conspicuous scar across her eye. She had contemplated driving a dagger into him, but wasn’t sure what armor he may have been wearing underneath the winter furs. Besides, a dead body would raise alarm, and she still hadn’t found a warm place to hide and wait out the storm. 

Approaching the fort, she kept her hood as closed as possible to try to hide her face, giving the appearance that she was trying to shield it from the cold. As they entered the warm building inside the courtyard, this behaviour became redundant, and trying to avoid revealing her face or hair, she started to act as though she were scared of all the big burly men around, keeping the hood on and staring at the ground, and begged the captain she had been brought to in a squeaky voice to just find her a room she could stay in before he could plod and pick through whatever formalities he deemed necessary for their guest. These soldiers looked untrained, and she was certain she could fight and kill the whole fort if necessary, but the goal was to not leave a trail of blood and death behind her as she tracked down her travelling prey. 

The captain contemplated the shaking figure before him for a moment, before saying, “well, we dun have enough rooms ter grant yer own, but ye can share mine, I suppose. There’s a spare bunk in it.” 

She nodded quickly, shifting her weight from foot to foot ‘nervously’ as the captain got up, leading her to his quarters. As he left her to unpack and settle in for the night, he informed her that a mid-winter feast would be held, and if she desired, she would be invited to join in the festivities. Shaking her head, she declined, and finally the man left. 

Taking a deep breath of relief, Katarina cursed her luck. The one time she’d been willingly invited into the personal chambers of a Demacian official was the one time she really did not want to kill anyone. 

Removing the frozen outer furs, she hung them on the mantle of his fireplace. Eating from her rations, for she dared not go to this feast, she looked around her surroundings. The bulk of the room was occupied by a large bed - the captain’s. Her own, like promised, was tucked off into a corner, and was significantly smaller. A bed was a bed, though, and she shoved her pack underneath it, and removed several of her daggers from their hiding places on her, placing them into the bag. One blade she held onto, and lying down, she placed the pillow on top of her head and carefully positioned the blanket to hide her face and hair, then lay there, dagger in hand, as a precaution. 

Katarina had dozed off, but the captain’s return for the night was loud and obvious, waking her instantly - he was extremely drunk. Shutting the door behind him as he began to undress, his eyes strayed over the covered lump in the small cot, and he guffawed loudly. “Oh yeah, forgot I got meself a lady fer the night!” 

Eagerly he staggered over, as Katarina braced herself to jump out of the way, dagger tightly clenched. _I guess I’m going to have to kill after all,_ she thought. The man ripped off the blanket and squealed in delight as a meaty hand went straight for her hair, surprisingly fast. “Ooh, a pretty little redhead!” He exclaimed as he hauled her up. His breath smelled of booze and meat, and was repulsive. Tolerating enough, Katarina slashed with her dagger, cutting his throat. 

His mouth formed a surprised ‘oh!’ as he dropped her, staggering backwards, hands to his neck as he tried in vain to stop the bleeding. Choking, he couldn’t make a sound, and Katarina watched as his lifeforce flooded out of the man, staining the carpet below. Rolling the locket in her hands, Katarina began to get an idea. This captain didn’t need to go missing, at least, not until she was gone. Once the pervert was dead, she undressed completely, then, stuffing as much hair of his as she could into the locket, she put the locket on. 

The sight and feel of the man’s body made her sick to her stomach, and gagging, she quickly staggered to the man’s wardrobe, putting on a fresh set of clothes. Next, she dragged the body under his own bed, then finally hid her belongings, to give the appearance that the little girl had left in the night, should anyone inquire. Content with her set-up, she collapsed onto the large bed, and fell asleep. 

******* 

The next day, the blizzard moved on, however the snow was still very deep, and Katarina could not extract herself out of the fort until the roads improved. She spent the day posing as the captain, and to achieve that, she acted like she had the biggest hangover ever. It was probably an accurate portrayal, and most of the guards were behaving similarly. As the captain, she got access to his work, and, spending most of the day shoving aside useless trivia, she finally found a letter. 

> Attn: All generals & captains of the Demacian army.
> 
> Jarvan the Fourth shall be residing in the southernmost areas of Demacia for the next two months, starting on the second day of December. His safe conveyance is of utmost important, and so it is deemed appropriate that extra recruitments shall be posted along the path by which he shall travel. 
> 
> All postings, watches, forts, and other defensive lines shall report immediately to the Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, anything that seems suspicious, and any activity suggesting Noxian infiltration. 
> 
> Signed and sealed, 
> 
> Garen Crownguard 
> 
> Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard 

Next to this letter, was another: 

> Attn: Garen Crownguard 
> 
> Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard 
> 
> Your order was to report all suspicious activity, and though I have little reason to believe a threat had been found, a young woman terrified of revealing herself, I suspect, has taken refuge at my fort in this blizzard. 
> 
> The guard who found her reported she had been crouched outside a door, about to break in and enter. Since he interrupted her before she trespassed, no crime had been committed, so I cannot charge her without cause. 
> 
> The woman appears harmless, and I think her just a petty thief, however, here is my due diligence. I shall keep her here until your reply with further instruction. 
> 
> Signed and sealed, 
> 
> Peter Hammington 
> 
> Captain of Grassy Gnoll Fort 

The scroll case in which the letter was probably supposed to go in lay next to it, and Katarina figured it must not have been sent yet due to the weather. She threw this second letter into the fire. The mysterious young woman would disappear from the memory of this place. 

The day passed by otherwise uneventfully, as most of the guard were scared to approach their grouchy leader. Katarina spent her time getting acquainted with detailed maps she found of the surrounding area, plotting her escape. 

******* 

Finally, three days later, the snow had melted enough to allow for travel. Putting her plan into motion, Katarina, still disguised as the captain, gave orders to the lieutenant, explaining that she, the ‘captain’, had to personally deliver a message. Taking the horse she had prepared in the night before, (filling the saddlebags with her own pack, and with some extra equipment such as food, and hair that she had collected from unsuspecting individuals, as well as different changes of clothes), she rode out of the fort, happy to leave it and the snow behind. The body hidden in ‘her’ room had begun to reek. 

She rode for several hours, until she could see nothing but fields and forest around, before stopping for a break, giving the horse some feed. While the horse ate, she took off the locket, her now-too-big clothes nearly engulfing her as she became herself again. Removing the remaining hair, she put the hair of a young man she had seen in the hamlet, a woodcutter, an unremarkable citizen, into the locket, then donned clothes and furs that would be appropriate for a man of his status. Burying the captain’s clothes in the snow in a ditch, she remounted the horse, and continued on her way. 

For two swift weeks, her disguise carried her further and further south, leaving the snow and even the cold behind. Finally, she arrived at the crossroads at which she would need to decide where she should check first for the Demacian prince. Did he want wine in Jandelle, or fine hunting in Manastia? While disguised as the captain, and while disguised as the woodcutter, she had not heard a single word where exactly Jarvan was. Flipping a coin, it landed on heads. She rode on to Manastia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether this needed a trigger warning or not! I decided to exclude it as the would-be bad guy received justice rather swiftly. If anyone does think it requires a trigger warning, please let me know, and I will add it in.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Manastia was only slightly larger than the average hamlet, and was buried deep in a quiet forest. Stowing away her horse in one hamlet over, paying the barn owner for the horse’s care with the money she had taken from Grassy Gnoll Fort, Katarina now walked on foot, disguised as a young maiden looking for work. She had chosen this particular girl to mimic as she was of a similar size, allowing Katarina to easily conceal her usual assortment of weapons. 

Entering the hamlet, she had one building in mind: The massive, well-kept manor, the only building in the town that looked to belong to someone who had lots of money. Approaching the large, wooden door, she knocked. For a minute, she waited, before she heard someone hastily shuffling to the door. A young, blonde lady answered: Lady Luxanna Crownguard, though this was a guess as Katarina knew her by name and description only. “Hello. Can I help you?” the lady asked in a tone that was sickeningly cheerful. 

“Er, yes, I have been travelling a ways looking for work. Do you by chance have a position for me?” Katarina curtsied awkwardly. 

“Oh! Splendid, actually, we’ve been scrambling all week trying to get the place ready! Yes, I have work for you. What can you do?” 

“Oh, ah, cleaning, um, washing, cooking a little bit,” Katarina hesitated. What do maids do, other than that? She found she had no idea. She resolved to ask her staff later. “I guess I can also handle hair, and all its care.” This was true. Maintaining her own hair was a point of pride for Katarina, and Cassiopeia had insisted on them doing each other’s, as that was easier, so she had gotten good with whatever hairstyles Cassiopeia had wanted, as well, which were many. 

“Hm, well, if there’s anything you don’t know, don’t hesitate to ask Mrs. Penn. Come in, I shall give you a tour, and then Mrs. Penn can show you what needs to be done. I am Lady Luxanna, by the way, but you can just call me Lady Lux. Luxanna is so formal, it’s awful! What is your name?” 

“Uh, Sarah, er, Sarah Hobson.” Katarina would need to make a note of this alias, so as not to forget. Lux showed her the manor, and they briefly greeted Garen, who was in his office writing. Katarina’s heart leapt into her throat at his sight, and she barely managed to stumble out her greeting, hiding the fear and anger that welled up inside. _This is going to be harder than I thought._ Finally, on the second floor, they found Mrs. Penn, an older, but not elderly woman, scrubbing the floors outside the various bedrooms and guest rooms. “I have extra help for you, Mrs. Penn. This is Sarah…” 

“Hobson, madame.” 

“Sarah Hobson! Sarah Hobson, this is Mrs. Lucy Penn. She can show you what to do.” With that, Lux left, returning downstairs. 

Heaving herself to her feet, Mrs. Penn gave a grim smile. “Excellent, your young bones can handle that work better than mine. My knees have just about had it with those floors. Get scrubbing, everything behind me is done, but the rest of this hallway needs to be finished. I shall be doing laundry and preparing these rooms. We have some important guests coming!” 

This was good news to Katarina: Jarvan would, in fact, be here. And it would seem Katarina had gotten a head-start on scouting the place out. Unable to break her disguise, she got on her hands and knees and began to do the work she signed up for, reminding herself that though she hated it, this was still the most perfect way she could think of to get close to him. 

******* 

For the next three days, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, without a single nook or cranny ignored. Katarina found herself unable to sneak off from the work to thoroughly explore the house, for Lux had a habit of appearing in the least expected places, lost in one book or another, and catching Katarina if she saw her slacking off. The work was rough, and she held back a sneer each time Garen or Lux would put a few copper pieces in her hands at the end of the day, trying instead to appear grateful for the money and the work, taking social cues from Mrs. Penn. 

Finally, on the fourth day, Jarvan arrived. With him was a terrifying beast, which Katarina learned was a half human, half dragon when she accidentally referred to it as a ‘pet’ of Jarvan’s while quietly asking Lux about them. Its name was Shyvana, and apparently it was definitely not a pet, but was, in fact, a friend of Jarvan’s. Shockingly, no one else accompanied them, and Katarina could now see why Swain was so anxious to take this opportunity; this was probably the most exposed that Jarvan had ever been. 

A rich dinner was being prepared from the start of the day, and, early in the morning, Katarina was about to start peeling some vegetable. It was discovered she could not cook at all, and thus this task was the only one she was permitted to do while in the kitchens - which was where she wanted to be, with a deadly poison hidden in an inner pocket, ready and waiting for the final dishes, This simple, easy plot was unintentionally routed, however, when Lux stuck her head into the kitchens, asking for ‘Sarah’. Stepping outside, Katarina greeted her. “Is everything alright, madame?” 

“Absolutely! I just remembered, you said you can do up hair? As you know, we’re having a dinner tonight, and I absolutely must look my best! The crown prince of all of Demacia will be at that dinner table, you see?” 

“Ah, yes, I can help you prepare, if you like, madame.” Katarina gave the appearance of being pleased, but inwardly cursed herself for mentioning that tiny piece of information a few days earlier. _Of all the things to interrupt my plans..._

“Excellent!” Lux gave a delighted squeak, grabbing Katarina by the arm and leading her up to Lux’s room. Inside, Katarina got a good look at the lady’s personal life, and realized this woman knew magics of some kind. The wand on its stand was a dead give-away, but in addition to that, a large book on spellcasting sat open on the reading desk, with many more on arcane subjects in the bookshelf. Katarina paused at this. Weren’t Demacians over-the-top paranoid about magic? Maybe there were exceptions made for high-ranking noble family members? Ignoring the various obviously magical artifacts, Lux lead her to a vanity desk, describing the hairstyle she wanted. Half an hour later, her hair was captured in two neat buns to curl, as Lux began contemplating her face. A knock on the door, and the half dragon, Shyvana, invited itself in. 

“I heard there was hair being dealt with,” it murmured in a surprisingly shy tone. “Could I join you?” 

“Certainly! Here, have a seat next to me, and Sarah can do your hair up, too!” As the half dragon sat down, it dawned on Katarina that it was, in fact, female. 

Shyvana’s hair, which she wore in a tight braid, was slightly longer than Katarina’s when it was unravelled. Shyvana didn’t seem to know much about hair or beauty, and let Katarina play with her hair, until she landed upon a waterfall braid. The curly hair would compliment Lux’s. 

Done for the moment, Katarina was about to excuse herself and hurry back to the kitchens, when Lux turned to her. “Sarah, how would you like to join us at the dinner party? I’m allowed one extra guest to help fill out the seats, and quite frankly, I think you’ve earned it!” 

“Oh,” exclaimed Katarina in surprise, hiding her growing annoyance. “Er, sure. In that case, I shall need to clean up. Um, may I then use the bath house?” 

“Absolutely! Come back when you’re clean!” Lux turned to Shyvana, and continued her discussion of what make-up she should wear. 

Annoyed that her plans had been thwarted by the oblivious Lux, Katarina quickly bathed, and hid the poison that was concealed on her, before hurrying back to Lux’s room, hoping to get the preparations over and done with so she might possibly sneak back to the kitchens before dinner was served. But it was not to be, as the hours dragged on while they worked through make-up, then clothes, then the final touches on hair. By the time they were done, the sun had set and dinner time was nearing. Katarina’s patience had been worn down to a thin wire, and she could tell Shyvana was much the same. Lux’s energy knew no bounds, and she seemed to thrive off of this stuff. She couldn’t deny that the trio looked good, though. Wearing a set of Lux’s clothes, ‘Sarah’ made a fine figure. Whoever the woman she was mimicking really was, she happened to be gifted with beauty. So he gets to live another night, she thought to herself as she made her way down to the dining room. _That bastard has no idea how lucky he is._

******* 

Entering the dining room, they sat down next to the waiting men, who had already been sipping wine and chatting for some time. Garen and someone Katarina didn’t recognize were sitting to Jarvan’s left at the head of the table, while Shyvana and Lux sat down to his right. Lux motioned to Katarina to sit next to her, and as she took her spot, servers came in. One of the kitchen staff gave Katarina a confused look as if to ask _“why are you here,”_ and she shrugged slightly in return, equally bewildered at her luck. 

A hearty meal was served, and the group slowly ate, enjoying the good food, and chatting about their plans for the next week. Katarina stayed silent, listening, and she discovered that the unidentified man was a local hunter named Gathikk and an old friend of theirs, who would be their guide on their adventures for trophies to bring home. 

“So, wot brings ye out ‘ere, anyways? Aft’ y’were named crown prince, I thought I wouldn’t be seein’ ye agin, wot with th’ need fer protection an’ all that?” Gathikk finally asked Jarvan, the question having been on the man’s heavily accented tongue for several minutes now. 

“Oh,” Jarvan sighed, “just cabin fever, which I suppose sounds ridiculous when the citadel is about ten times as big as all of Manastia. But my father and I had a few disagreements on various matters, and we were driving each other up the wall over the disputes. So we decided it was time I get a little vacation away from home. My father is so good to me, having set all this up to make this happen, just because we needed some time apart.” Jarvan now smiled, “and what a better ‘home away from home’ than here! I could spend my whole vacation here!” 

At this, Garen cleared his throat. “Oh, no, I think we should only be here a week maximum, and we pick different places to stay each week. I just got a strange report from up north, and it’s got me paranoid that something’s up.” 

“Really? What is it now?” Jarvan grumbled, disappointed. 

“Captain Peter Hammington of Grassy Gnoll Fort was found dead, with his body hidden under his bed. The strange thing is, he had apparently left Grassy Gnoll Fort, leaving his first lieutenant in charge, the day before, saying he had something he had to personally deliver, which is of course, outside of normal protocol. The body, however, had been dead for longer than a day. It was found by the smell.” 

“So, he left the day before?” 

“Yes.” 

“And then his body was found under the bed?” 

“Yes, and dead for a while.” 

“When did he come back?” 

Katarina inwardly groaned at this, while Shyvana outwardly groaned. “No, dummy. It’s weird because he was in two places at once, is what Garen is trying to say.” Katarina was impressed that Shyvana had just called the prince a dummy, and not received any discipline for it. Probably because he just realized the conundrum, and was now trying to figure it out. 

“But that’s… impossible?” 

“Maybe it was a disguise?” Lux chimed in. “There are magical ways to alter one’s appearance, and it’s possible to make one look like someone else.” 

Katarina did not miss the slight grimaces from Garen and Jarvan at the mention of magic. So they weren’t totally comfortable with it... “Yes, exactly, and this is the reason I fear someone malicious may be in Demacia, somewhere, looking like Captain Hammington. Unfortunately, I’ve heard no reports of his appearance. The description of the horse he rode on did get a few remarks, but brown horses with a rider and saddlebags aren’t exactly rare, y’know?” 

“Alright, alright. We’ll move around, I suppose. I was looking forward to a relaxing vacation, and I just like the comfort of this place, you know?” 

“Yeah, sorry buddy. We can all vacation when Noxus lies defeated.” 

“Hah! That may not even happen in my lifetime!” 

“Hey, think positively! Imagine all the things you could have! You gotta have the mindset of a winner!” 

“Yeah, more land, more people, more responsibility, more headaches - oh come on, don’t look at me that way! I know, I know. It’ll be nice to not be at war. That’s for sure.” 

“And you’ll get your pretty little trophy wife, Garen,” Lux teased. Garen rolled his eyes at this. “Hah, you mention once that you find someone on the other side of the battlefield hot, and your sister will never let you live it down!” 

“Oooh, falling for a Noxian! Naughty, naughty Garen!” Shyvana taunted. “Take your prize! You should have taken her while she was in your grasp!” 

“And do what? Keep her locked up in a cage? No! She might be barely human, but she’s not an animal, either!” 

Jarvan gave a small laugh at this. “Well, it’d keep her out of trouble. We’d get to guarantee she won’t be able to hurt anyone that way.” 

“An execution would get the same results!” 

“But seriously,” Jarvan now leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face. “I want peace. What if we could show the world that a Demacian and a Noxian could get along? You were saying it yourself, Garen, the whole ‘she’s a human’ thing. Hmm?” 

“It’s an entertaining notion, but I don’t think it would work,” Garen shook his head. 

“Yeah, maybe you should pick someone not made of hell and spitfire,” laughed Shyvana. “Otherwise, you’d have to break her and bend her will to yours, and I don’t think Noxians would consider that a successful union.” 

Curiosity overwhelming her at this apparent inside joke, Katarina whispered to Lux, “what are they talking about? Or rather, who?” Lux whispered back, “Oh, just some evil wretch he’s met on the battlefield. Have you heard of the Sinister Blade?” 

It took all of Katarina’s willpower to not react how she very desperately wanted to at that moment. She gave a snort of disgust, then masked what her disgust had really been at by following it up with, “oh, her.” Remembering she was still disguised as Sarah, she focused on her breathing, and on the sweet pastry that sat in front of her. It tasted like ash. The others did not seem to notice her predicament, and after regaining her composure, she waited for the meal to be finished, seething underneath as the minutes stretched into hours, well late into the night.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

During the night, Katarina had returned to her hiding place, determined to pick up her weapons and commit to the assassination her favourite way. But seeing that the night was almost three quarters finished, and feeling rather exhausted, she thought better of it, worried she might be prone to poor judgement. So she chose to sleep instead, and prepare for the next night, when she would be feeling better. 

The next day, the Demacians began their vacation in earnest. Jarvan, Shyvana, Garen, and Lux all left with Gathikk around mid morning, leaving their staff with the chores. Katarina, however, was done with tolerating her disguise, and with only the bumbling servants in the house, she found it easy to sneak away and start exploring in earnest. She heard exasperated calls from Mrs. Penn looking for ‘Sarah’ to help her, but Katarina ignored her. Instead, she took the opportunity to really look around the manor, exploring each room and investigating every nook and cranny. She took particular note of Jarvan’s room, observing the terrain below the balcony it exited onto. This corner of the building sat on the edge of a small ravine, and the ground was treacherous and steep. If she were to attack by night, she would have to be very careful if this was her escape path. Noting where a large boulder was, she picked a spot between it and an overturned tree stump. The dirt plummeted down here, and there was no way to land on it and remain standing, but if she could land and use it as a slide, it would be a good way to create significant distance, fast. 

Next, she snuck down to the ground floor, and picking the lock on Garen’s office door, she invited herself inside. Adjusting the stopper on the window, she left it unlocked so that it would be easy to open from the outside, just subtle enough that it would be unnoticed by the casual glance. Turning to his desk, she helped herself to documents that undoubtedly no Noxian was ever supposed to see. Unfortunately, the information she read from the papers was irrelevant by this point, just details on Jarvan’s safe escort to Manastia, and, interesting for gossip but useless for military, the king’s father-son relationship and how it was currently strained. The papers did alert her to the fact that there were many guards stationed in a ten-mile radius, still keeping a vigilant eye out for their prince. _Good thing I’m already on the inside of that_ , she thought to herself with grim satisfaction. 

As night began to fall, Katarina felt the sensation of her body changing - the hair in her locket had run out, and her disguise was no more. As this happened, she could hear the triumphant chanting of the hunters returning. _“Just my luck,”_ she muttered under her breath. As the rest of the staff greeted the hunters at the front door, she snuck to the back. The door was heavy, and slammed shut with a thud behind her. She cringed at the noise, and hoped no one noticed, as she took off into the brush. Moving her way through the thick forest, she cursed the dark under the trees as she stumbled through it noisily. _Stop, just stop. Let your eyes adjust. Plowing through the forest will only make your presence obvious to others, she thought to herself,_ and she ducked behind a tree to catch her breath and let herself get used to her surroundings. Ripping off the commoner’s clothes, she revealed her usual light leather gear, and calmed herself by playing with one of her previously concealed daggers. “Perhaps tonight is the night we see a little action, hmm?” she whispered to it. 

Light flickered behind her and the forest danced with shadows. “‘ang on! I thought I saw somethin’ in ‘ere!” shouted the voice of Garen. Distantly, she heard a “yeah, yeah, sure, Garen!” and Garen shouted back as he stepped into the forest, “I’ll get a trophy tonight, you’ll see!” 

“Not when you’re shouting and waving a light around, you dunce!” This was the half dragon. “Oh, shoot, right,” muttered Garen, and he snuffed the torch out. Silence followed, and Katarina realized he was holding still for the same reason as her: To let his eyes adjust. Five minutes of the standstill, she began to hear a shuffling, as if a heavy man in heavy boots was attempting to walk lightly. “Here, kitty kitty kitty,” he murmured, “or whatever y’are…” 

Katarina would have burst out laughing at him if she weren’t trying to avoid him. If this was how he hunted, it came to no surprise to her that he had caught nothing so far. 

Now, he crept past her tree, and if he so much as glanced to his left, he would see her. She could smell his breath from where she stood, which she realized was strongly flavoured with beer. He stepped a few more paces forward, still not noticing her. She contemplated jumping him. It would be easy, and if she got his head off, he wouldn’t be able to call for help. But if the others found his body, they would immediately become defensive, and her chance to kill Jarvan would be lost. She remembered a similar situation, the one that earned her the scar on her face. She would not fall for that again. If she could sneak away, that would be best. Carefully, she stepped, trying to get the tree between them again. 

Garen suddenly stopped, shaked his head slightly muttering “forget it”, then spun around as if to march back to the manor. The movement was so unexpected it caught Katarina by surprise, and she could not finish moving around the tree to hide before he saw her. Thinking quickly, she blink stepped behind him, staying as quiet as she could, hoping to fool him, but he must have seen that trick one too many times and immediately spun around, clipping her with a swinging arm and knocking her to the ground. He was instantly upon her, trying to pin her down and subdue her before she could sink a dagger into him. 

Her mind scrambling for ideas, one half-baked plan came to the forefront. Spitting in his face, she hissed at him. “Why are you always anywhere I try to be? Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?!” 

“Becaush yer always threatenin’ ter kill the people I love. Kinda comes with bein’ a murderous, uh, assassin, y’know?” He growled, his speech slurred. He was apparently very drunk. 

“Really? Out here? In the middle of nowhere? I’m in a god-damned forest on the run from fucking hell!” 

Garen paused, relaxing his grip, looking surprised as his sluggish mind processed what she said, and Katarina took the opportunity to punch him in the face and shoot free from his grasp. Running further away from the manor, she could hear him close behind. “Stop… running… damn you!” He panted out between gasps as he struggled to keep up with the agile assassin. 

Katarina knew she could outlast the drunk man behind her and eventually run to freedom, but that would mean he could warn the others, and her chance to assassinate Jarvan would close. She could also kill him, but his dead body would equally warn Jarvan of danger. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, panic began to build up in her chest before she steeled her mind. Really, the solution was simple, it was her solution for everything: Stab the problem, hide the evidence. J

ust as she had made up her mind and reached for her daggers on her thighs, her foot caught a root, sending her crashing to the ground, and she found herself instantly in a giant, crushing hug from Garen, arms pinned down. She struggled and squirmed, trying to lash out at him as he worked to maintain his grip, shifting into a kneeling position and holding her close. Cradling her, one massive hand held both of her wrists together pressed against her chest, and the other wrapped itself around her neck. His grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off bloodflow yet, but Katarina was acutely aware that she was in grave danger of being strangled. Her legs were free, but lying on her back in his arms left them with nothing on him to reach. She saw now, looking up at his face, that her punch had been rewarded with a bloody nose that he was trying his best to ignore. Eyes sprung with tears as she faked a sob - which wasn’t entirely fake. “Leave me alone!” 

“Oh come on, I’m not gonna let yer run around the countryside, n’matter yer reasons! What’re yer running from, anyway? D’yer really think that’s so believable?” 

Though worried it wasn’t good enough even for his drunken state, she decided to continue the lie, “Hmph, what does it matter to you? You know nothing of Noxian politics! Since I can’t be trusted after being captured, I may as well be dead to them, fucking thanks for that! So I’ve been going away, to somewhere that is neither Demacia nor Noxus! I don’t care about either anymore! Now let me go!” If she relaxed and started talking to him, maybe he would let his guard down and she could get loose from his grip again. This was easier thought than done, though, as the fight or flight response was so strong in her, and as he contemplated what she just said, she devoted her energy to calming herself down. Fake sobs turning to deep breaths, she had physically stopped struggling, but found herself unable to stop being tense. 

Finally, he spoke. “No, I’m not gonna to let yer go. That’d be ir- irresponsible of me, to just let a dangerous monster like yer-” 

“I. Am not. A monster,” she growled at him, venom and rage lacing her words as all her efforts to calm herself down proved to be in vain. 

“Really? Show me,” he spat back, his sneer barely visible in the moonlight that managed to filter through the canopy. The fingers around her neck tightened slightly, and she was now struggling for breath. “B’cause right now, I’m holdin’ onter a vicious little savage who only ever thinks about killin’ and hurtin’ e’erythin’ around it. Are yer really human, little beast?” 

It was clear to Katarina that, in his drunken state, he thought this was all rather entertaining. Her rage building up inside her, it took all her strength to focus instead on her breathing, which was made difficult by the tight grip he had maintained on her neck. After she had gotten some modicum of calmness back, she managed to croak out, “and how, do you suppose, am I to do that?” 

She had to get him talking. She needed to stall. He didn’t have any intentions of letting her go, even though he was drunk and possibly pliable, but he had yet to knock her out, get up, and start hauling her back to the manor. She hoped to stall him long enough from doing just that, so she could figure out a way to escape his tight grasp. 

“Hmm, thash a good question,” Garen thought aloud, laughing. “How pathetic d’yer have to be that you can’t even prove that yer human rather than monster?” “Oh, what, do you really think your Demacian propaganda is so correct that you’d willingly plow down the homes of others, just because it said they’re monsters? Do your eyes not tell you otherwise? Or do they deceive you? Do you willingly shut them when they present you with evidence suggesting your enemies are also humans, that they are the same as you?” 

Offended, he protested this. “How dare you! Oh sure, yer certainly a pershon, but your behaviour is des… des… despicable, and de-decidedly not human! No, you are not my equal. I-” He had lifted the hand around her neck to gesture at himself as he said this, and with this mistake, Katarina shot out of his grip, spinning around and kicking him in the head as hard as she could. He dropped to the ground, knocked out cold. 

Panting heavily, she stared at him warily. That had been way too close for comfort. If he had not been drunk, he probably wouldn’t have toyed with her so long; he would have strangled her into oblivion as soon as he could. Kicking him in the head several more times before creeping away, she hoped that he would not remember her here. 

*******

“Wake up, you big oaf, wake up!” 

Garen groggily groaned as he opened his eyes. Jarvan, Shyvana, and Lux all stood over him looking exasperated. “Wha’the heck happened to you? It’s midnight, and yer out here, out cold!” 

“Huh? I… I dunno. We were hunting, I guesh! Did I get lost?” 

“No! We had come back from huntin’, the manor’s just over there, Garen! Y’ran off into the bushes saying y’thought you saw somethin’, an’ didn’ come back! So here we found you, with a bloody nose and, well, yer whole head is one big bruise!” 

Uneasily, Garen staggered to his feet. “I, uh, I dunno what happened. I don’t really remember any of that, or, really, comin’ home. I remember leavin’ fer the morning, though!” 

“Ugh, he’s taken a nasty fall, I think,” Lux spoke up. “Come on, let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.” 

“I did have a fantastic dream about huntin’ a magnificent, red-furred beast. Maybe it’s a sign! Are there any such beasts ‘ere? I think that’s what I shuld get a trophy of!” 

“Maybe your dream was reality and the beast knocked you out, and you should take that as a sign not to go seeking it out!”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

In her hiding place, a dense grove of trees and bushes, Katarina looked at her pack, at the assortment of tiny little bags that each contained a bit of hair. ‘Sarah’ was no more, and now Katarina was unsure how next to proceed. She hadn’t taken hair samples of any other individuals who looked like they could be maids or manservants, and she wasn’t sure she’d get ‘Sarah’’s job anyway, now that the bulk of the cleaning had been completed. Finally, she settled on one, a dark-skinned man who had immigrated from Shurima. She didn’t plan on being seen this time, as she would be stalking them instead, hunting the hunters, but if she did happen to be spotted, a man wandering from the relatively nearby desert wasn’t totally unheard of. 

Stuffing the hair into the locket and removing her clothes, she put the locket on. Waiting for the transformation, she suddenly felt pain along her back, and her arms and legs seared in agony. Alarmed, she watched herself, as her hands mutated, suddenly growing a lot of hair, and… claws? She remembered that the man had kept a lot of cats, and she realized she must have gotten cat hair in the mix. Horrified and in pain, she could only watch in despair as the transformation finally stopped. Looking at herself, she realized that this transformation was only partial in one aspect: She had maintained her size, and, apparently, hair colour. She was a bright red house cat the size of a large dog. The unnatural form, however, was causing her immense pain. 

Unable to do anything but wait out the transformation, Katarina closed up her pack as best as her uncooperative paws would let her, before lying down and attempting to sleep through the agony. 

******* 

The next day, Katarina crept around the manor gingerly, keeping a safe distance, as the pain was blindingly terrible, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to escape the vacationing hunters if they saw her. Listening to the conversation inside, she learned Garen had been made a fool of, getting himself lost and injured in the woods the night before, and having no memory of it. The group decided to skip bringing the beer this time, as they all blamed his apparent stupidity on being drunk. He wasn’t the only one hungover, and judging by the half dragon’s mood, she had probably drunk even more than he did. Only Lux seemed unaffected, as Jarvan and the guide were also relatively groggy. 

Satisfied that they were otherwise unaware of her presence, Katarina snuck off again, leaving them to their beast-hunting fantasies. Unsure how long this transformation would last, and also rather hungry, she decided to see if she could catch her own prey, in spite of her limited movement. 

Many hours and and still empty-clawed, Katarina gave up on the local wildlife, and instead headed back to Manastia, knowing there would be livestock. One dead pig later, dragged into the bushes before its caretakers could notice, Katarina was unsure how to eat it. A cat would just start biting off pieces, but the human mind was disgusted with this idea. The animal stunk. Clawing it, she realized her claws were razor sharp, just like her daggers. Perhaps she didn’t need to waste time waiting for the hair inside her locket to run out, maybe she could kill Jarvan in this form. Finally ripping off a chunk of skin and tearing away the fat, the muscle underneath lay exposed, and, snarling in disgust, Katarina made herself eat. 

Over the next two days, she tried to make the best of the situation by practicing being a cat. She found the more she moved her body, as awful as it was, it did slowly lessen the pain, as if muscles and joints were getting used to the idea of working differently. 

By now, the farmers had noticed the attacks on their livestock. Her plan had been to return to the one pig when she got hungry again, but its carcass had been discovered and taken back to the farm to have whatever was left of it salvaged. Because she was still unable to catch anything wild, Katarina was forced to visit the farms twice more, the first time grabbing a single small chicken, and the second time because the chicken had not been enough to hold her over very long, this time killing and taking a goat. 

The hunting party had decided to stick around and delay leaving the area, having been alerted by the bothered citizens of a predator, and resolved to hunt for the beast before they left for Jandelle. Now on the fourth night of being a cat, she once again approached yet another farm, seeking out its chickens. The farmer had rounded them up early, putting them in their coop and closing the gate. This gate would have held a normal predator back, but this cat used her human brain to unlock it, slipping inside. The coop immediately burst into a storm of noise as the birds panicked in her presence, and she pounced on the first one she could see, killing it and carrying it out. As she left, the farmer, who had been alerted by the noise, came running and shouting, and upon seeing her, stopped dead in his tracks. “By the gods, what is it?” He began to call for help. _Who the heck is going to answer this guy about some animal taking his chickens? Coward!_ Katarina thought as she slunk away. Her question was answered by the triumphant shouts of the hunters. _Oh. Them. Right. They’re hunting, on a hunting trip. Which they’ve delayed to hunt for the beast taking the livestock. Me. That’s why they’re here. That’s why they’re still here._

With the chicken still firmly grasped in her mouth, she picked up her pace as much as her aching legs allowed her, shuffling ahead into the thick forest, hoping to be gone and out of sight by the time they reached the farm. Her heightened senses told her they were on horseback, as they usually were while hunting. A strange crackling could be both heard and felt in the air, and she ducked and leapt out of the way just as a beam of light appeared beside her, snapping with a loud bang and dissipating into darkness again. “Up ahead!” shouted Lux’s voice a fair distance behind her, “looks like the red monster from your dream, Garen!” 

Great, the girl did, in fact, use magic, and seemed to be able to create light with it. Katarina had hoped the cover of darkness would give her an advantage and let her slip away, but if this girl could create light, that would be a problem. Finally dropping the dead chicken, when a moment of darkness returned as another spell from Lux finished, Katarina took a sharp turn, slinking behind a boulder, and waited. The first four rode past, eyes looking forward, and Lux was last, somewhat slowed by her spellcasting. As she began to craft more light, Katarina hauled herself up the boulder, then sprung onto the sorceress. Sinking her teeth into the girl’s neck, they plummeted off of the horse as Lux screamed. Kicking with her back legs, for it felt so natural, she ripped open Lux’s abdomen while clutching her with her forepaws, still trying to chew her head off, but a whistle followed by a thud as a javelin landed next to her alerted Katarina she had to run, and she took off as fast as she could, leaving the grievously wounded Lux in favour of freedom. 

As she glanced back, she saw that Garen, Jarvan and Gathikk had rushed to Lux’s side, cloth from whatever medical kit they had already coming out. Shyvana, however, was still mounted, and still pursuing her. She felt heat coming from behind her, and a fireball hit her back, her fur beginning to smoulder. The horse Shyvana rode apparently didn’t like this, and Katarina heard the half dragon curse as it reared up and bucked in fear, kicking off its rider. With all five dismounted, they were unable to give further chase, and Katarina vanished into the night. 

******* 

Back in her grove, Katarina licked herself dry. She had jumped into a stream to stop the smoldering fur, and discovered why cats hated it so much: It was so cold, and soaking right to her skin, her fur felt like a wet, freezing towel from which she could not escape. Shaking and shivering, she had gotten the worst out now, but the areas she could not reach remained as a damp, cold reminder. Exhausted, hungry, and in worse agony than before, she fell into an uneasy sleep.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

The next three days were a dangerous game of cat and mouse, or rather, hunter and cat, as the four uninjured hunters tried to track her down. They had found her hiding place, though not before their noise had long since alerted her, and, carrying her pack, she vacated the area, this time careful to leave as few tracks as possible as she picked a new location. 

They were not the only ones hunting, though, and as the days passed, moving became easier and Katarina felt confident enough to try finding food elsewhere. She surprised herself one morning, finding a small sparrow in her mouth. She also found herself to be in a location she did not recognize and discovered she didn’t actually remember _catching_ the bird. Bewildered as to what happened, she traveled for hours before the area began to smell familiar - since when was she going by smell, now? 

Katarina paused. What was going on? Was she going insane? From what little information she had, she reckoned that, somehow, she was turning into a cat. This caused panic in her chest, and frantic, she clawed at the locket, trying to pry it open against Swain’s warning words: If this were to happen, do not open the locket, and do not try to take it off, or the damage will be made permanent. Only wait. 

Defeated when the locket would not cooperate with her, she flopped onto the ground, miserable. When she had quietened down was when she heard the voices. Sneaking forward, for she recognized the voices, she got just within the cat’s hearing range to make out what they were saying, still safely well out of sight. “It’s smart, really smart! It knew how to open an animal-proof gate, and then later, to ambush the specific pursuer that was creating light, like it knew we needed to see!” This was Jarvan, talking to an unconvinced Garen on the back patio of the manor, “It’s different, nothing like the regular beasts that lurk in this area. I don’t want to pack up and leave Gathiik alone to try and deal with it. Who knows, it might kill him before he can kill it!” 

Garen gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Maybe we’re being too cautious. Maybe it’s safe for you to stay in one place a little while longer. But please, Jarvan, consider Jandelle. Consider Mosswoods -” 

“I am! And I will go, when I have that thing’s head!” 

This seemed to be the end of the interesting discussion. So they were planning on staying here? This was good, she had more time to kill Jarvan while she was still in relatively familiar territory. Maybe if she embraced this cat thing, she might be able to kill him, regardless of her current circumstances. She slunk away again, filled with determination to practice moving about. 

Three nights later, Katarina decided she was ready to try an attack on Jarvan. She was only feeling very sore at this point, which was a huge step up from feeling like her joints wanted to snap and throw her whole body apart. Alarmingly, though, the moments where she blacked out, and, presumably, the cat took over, had gained in frequency. It took all her effort now to focus on her very human mission, hoping not to lose sight of her goal. It was the dead of the night, and while everyone slept, she crept around the house. She didn’t trust the back door to not make a sound, and had found the front to be locked, a barrier she could not pass without proper human hands. Instead, she headed straight for Garen’s office window, and to her pleasure, found that her tampering had not been noticed or fixed, and with ease, she slunk inside. 

She could feel the animal inside stir, as if it were uneasy, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the overwhelming scent of human occupancy here filled her nostrils. She shook her head to try to clear the cat’s thoughts, or rather, instincts, to run. 

Working her way up to the second floor, she listened carefully as she crept past each door. She could hear not just the loud snoring, but every single breath of each sleeping person. Sitting at Jarvan’s door, she contemplated her next challenge: The doorknob. Her paws were ill-suited to the delicate task, and she tested the door first, to see if the latch had not quite caught. It was shut tight. She would need to turn the knob before she could push open the door. Standing on her hind legs, she carefully wrapped her front paws around it, trying to get a grip on it as she twisted, turning it. It took her a tense five minutes of trying, while listening to see if anyone had awoken. 

Finally the door opened with an audible click, and she froze as Jarvan stirred in response. The cat almost won at the sight of a human and nearly sent her flying back down the hallway, but angry with its attempts to thwart her, she lunged forward with a terrific roar, closing the distance between her and Jarvan as he fumbled to get up and reach in vain for a nearby fire poker, shouting in terror. With one last bound, Katarina jumped on Jarvan. They collapsed onto the bed as Jarvan screamed for help. Ears back and fangs bare, she went straight for his neck, kicking the whole time with claws dug into the sides of his chest, but before her teeth met flesh, he blocked with his hands, trying to hold her mouth apart so she couldn’t bite. With contempt, she chomped down, severing several fingers and again made for his neck, ripping it open. Before she could do more damage, she heard an angry shout behind her, and someone picked up the fire poker and began to strike her with it as she desperately continued to gnaw on flesh. Watching Garen take a swing down for her head, she jerked away, taking with her a bloody scrap of skin, and leapt off of Jarvan just as the iron came down, smashing him in the face. If she could laugh while being a cat, she would have. Jarvan lay still on the bed, either dead or unconscious, as Garen, horribly angry now, roared out while swinging the poker at her. She ducked under the bed and made a run for the balcony, smashing through the glass window just as Shyvana burst through the door behind Garen. Garen, now sobbing, yelled for help as he turned to Jarvan, trying to hold the neck wound closed with his hands. 

Katarina got a glance of Lux staggering in, and gasping in horror at Jarvan before dashing out again, and then Katarina had to make her own fast exit before Shyvana could reach her. Leaping to the balcony rails, she realized the jump that would have been injurious as a human was now easy as a cat, and she hopped down as Shyvana leapt after, bursting into an enraged inferno above her. Glancing upwards, she saw that Shyvana had seemingly grown and sprouted wings, taking on the form of a full-blooded dragon. 

Ears back, Katarina didn’t remember much of what happened next as she darted into the forest, making for the densest, thickest parts that the large dragon hopefully could not get through. Shyvana carelessly smashed into the canopy, fire spewing from her maw as she lit the whole area up, half-flying, half-jumping and running after the cat. Despite all the tricks and turns, hopping through narrow spaces and dashing through the undergrowth, the cat seemed unable to gain distance between herself and the dragon. Even now, the forest was burning around them, and Katarina could feel parts of her fur start to catch flame. She awoke at this new pain briefly, and thinking quickly, she changed her course, running for a river she had encountered before. The water would weigh her down if she tried to run again, but perhaps she could swim downstream, letting the current carry her away. It would be better than running around like a living torch, though the dragon snatching her out of the water was a very real risk. 

Finally, the water came into sight, and bounding across the rocky shore, she jumped as far as she could into the river, letting herself sink into the water to lose the dragon’s line of sight. Frantic, the dragon slashed through the water, desperately trying to find her as the current moved her to safety. A last effort, Shyvana lifted into the air, and unleashed a torrent of fire, flying down the river, trying to boil the cat out. 

The water did become hot, but Katarina was determined not to leave it. Finally as the flaming dragon flew past several times and then further down river and beyond, Katarina resurfaced, gasping for air. Dragging herself out of the water, she watched as Shyvana flew into the distance, still roaring in anger, before the dragon wore herself out, looping around back to the manor, her head drooping as she made a long, sad call of defeat.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Katarina next awoke back in the log that was currently her home, mid-grooming, apparently. Spitting out the fur on her tongue in disgust, she took a look around. The log itself had smoldered a bit, but otherwise remained unharmed, the hidden stash of her supplies inside safe. Shifting uncomfortably, Katarina made a note of her injuries: Burns all over, mostly minor, and her back felt like it was going to be bruised for a long time, thanks to Garen and the fire poker. She wondered if the wounds would carry through the spell to her actual body, and hoped the spell would break soon. In either case, she resolved to give herself some time to recover before she attempted any more theatrics. She had been saving what little of the cured meat in her food pack remained, for such a situation as this. 

In the following days, Katarina learned that, not only did Jarvan survive his heavy injuries, but also that his vacation was to come to an end. As soon as he was strong enough, he would be returning to the capital. Upon learning that large, highly intelligent, red-furred cats were not normal in the area, or, in fact, anywhere, the Demacians decided this must have been a mutant experiment released by Noxian scientists. An order was to be sent for a squadron of soldiers to come to the forest and hunt for the cat. Katarina learned this by the letter found on a dead messenger. She tried to ignore the fact that that she had no idea why she was standing over a dead messenger, or that the messenger looked, well, partially eaten, and that her belly was suspiciously full. Very much disturbed, she dragged the body away from the path and into the bushes, hoping he would never be found. 

It had been three solid weeks now of being a cat. Katarina watched in the distance, with her pack awkwardly lying across her back, waiting for the coach to finish being loaded up and depart. The pack she had tied to herself as best as she could, lest the cat come awake and take off in some direction, which happened far too often for her liking. She would be on the move, now, so she needed her belongings with her, as she planned to follow the Demacians, looking constantly for an opening on Jarvan, hell-bent on completing her mission, cat or human. 

Finally ready to depart, the coach left Manastia behind, and Katarina took off after it, keeping a safe distance. She only needed to be near enough to hear it, so she should be safe from sight. - 

She awoke again, this time mid-bite into something, and her mouth having the taste of a strange kind of veal. But she was not looking at a baby cow. She was looking at the now slightly rotted messenger. Absolutely disgusted and horrified, she immediately spat out the contents of her mouth, and even swiped at the carcass, wanting to make it go away. Of course, it didn’t move, but her claws did connect to intestines, which came spilling out in a rush, and an awful stench hit her nose. Not even being trapped as a cat could stop her from doubling over and emptying her (disturbingly full) stomach onto the dead body, creating an even bigger mess, and overwhelmed and unsure what to do, she took off, running as far away from the body as she could. 

An hour later, she could hear the steady clip-clop of horses, and as she jumped across the path she had subconsciously been following for the twentieth time, she caught sight of a coach - which brought her attention away from the horror she left behind and back to her original purpose: To follow that coach and its occupants. To kill the one with the crown. Immediately slinking back into the tall grass, for she had left the safety of the forest long ago, she continued to follow the carriage. 

******* 

On the second night of travel, the Demacians were unable to reach the next hamlet at a reasonable time, and so decided to camp on the roadside. Katarina watched the party from the bushes as they unpacked and stretched their legs. Lux had mostly recovered from her own wounds, though Jarvan was still heavily bandaged, especially around his neck, and moved about stiffly. 

“I’m so glad to leave that monster cat behind. Though I wonder where the squadron I ordered for are? We should have passed them some time today,” chatted Garen. “Regardless, the perimeter guard has been ordered to look for the cat as well. Hopefully we find the damned beast.” 

A shrug came from Jarvan, as he sat next to the fire on his bedroll. “As long as I never see it again, I’ll be happy. Though, mounting its head on my wall will be a nice second-best scenario,” he hoarsely croaked. Katarina grinned, a horrifying sight with bared fangs, at this; she promised that Jarvan would see her at least once more. The neck was well-bandaged, though, and that was the easiest way for her to kill him with nothing but claw and fang. She watched as Garen carefully changed the bandage now, noting that the bulk of the padding was around the front. If she bit into the side, she might be able to reach flesh. Ultimately, if she had time, she would be able to rip the thing off and bite him freely, but with his friends within reach, she would only have time for a few quick snaps before she would have to bolt into the forest again. Picking a moment when they all seemed preoccupied with one thing or another, she slunk away to hide her pack in a safe place, keeping the fiery dragon in mind with choosing its location. 

Creeping back, she observed them for a while. During the evening, a messengerbird had actually, by chance, found the group, and the letter it carried had some very big news to tell. Upon hearing that his son was gravely injured, the king had left the safety of his citadel walls for the first time in over half a century to come and meet the prince on his way back, desperate to see him again, and make sure he is alright. Katarina could only imagine the colossal waste of resources that were no doubt being spent to make this happen. The soldiers guarding Jarvan the Fourth’s path were numerous. Nothing short of the entire army being with the king would, then, be necessary for Jarvan the Third’s safety. 

Even knowing his own country’s numbers, Garen was quick to exclaim his horror, which the prince actually agreed with. “I… I should never have come out here. I cannot believe my own stubbornness has drawn my father away from the capital. This is… this is so, so terrifying!” Jarvan spoke, staring at the ground with worry written all over his face. “No. This is reckless, this is insanity. Oh, woe is me, if we get back to the citadel in one piece, to hell with all our differing ideas, I will only stand by his side. I had never meant to put my beloved father in danger!” 

Lux spoke up, ever the one thinking positively. “Relax, my prince Jarvan! It’s going to be okay. You know, this is probably so spur of the moment, even if the Noxians learn about it, it’ll probably be all over by the time they can even reach you, and you’ll already be safe at home. And besides, your father will have his very best men alongside him! No, I think there is no way any Noxian, or any enemy of ours, will have heard of this at any opportune time.” 

Pacified, Jarvan finally sighed. “Alright, yes, as ever, Luxanna, you are the voice of reason. Of course, I am over-reacting. There is no way any Noxian assassin will reach us in time.” 

Katarina, sitting ten paces away in the bushes, almost laughed. The king was coming out of his shell, was he? Now this… was an interesting opportunity. She had her orders, though, and they were to kill the prince, so she resolved to at least make an attempt this night, before she would resort to letting prince Jarvan lead her straight to his king, and then she might be able to kill them both. 

Waiting now for the Demacians to tucker off to bed, Katarina did not notice when she lost consciousness, but she awoke next with dawn creeping on the horizon, and probably miles away from the camp. She howled and roared in frustration. Thwarted by the cat! 

It took her some time to find her way back, and by the time she found the camping site, the campers were long gone and the sun was nearing mid-morning. Angry, she charged down the road regardless of stealth, hoping to catch up to the horse-drawn carriage. 

She did not catch up. Instead, she suddenly collapsed to the ground, skidding to a halt as her limbs seemed to stop cooperating. Pain seared through her body, and she watched her paws begin warping again. Finally, the curse was ending. All she could do, though, was curl up into a ball of agony, as the mutation seemed reluctant to reverse. After was seemed like an eternity, she could feel her body was no longer twitching, and that, overall, she felt sore, but not like everything was going to fall apart on her. Untying the pack from herself, she also realized she was completely naked, not needing clothes as a cat. A quick glance up and down the road eased her mind; it was completely empty, as it nearly always was. Wasting no time, she quickly got dressed and set her pack right on her back before standing up, feeling so much better, so much more human. The locket went into the bag. She was done with it for the moment. 

Now a significant distance behind her target and on foot, Katarina approached an outlying farm, and spotting a barn, went inside. Picking the friendliest of the five horses that waited inside, she found its tack and loaded it up as it nervously snorted and stomped, not liking the unfamiliar human. Looking around, she found some fresh hay and attempted to soothe the animal, and it accepted the food. Carefully walking around, she got onto its back and let it get used to the idea that the stranger was now riding it. It bucked, but Katarina grabbed the reigns, steadying herself, and signaled it forward. It continued to give her trouble, but she rode out each buck until it gave up and let her lead it, and she soon had it galloping down the path of the farm. She saw no one around to stop it, and her theft went unnoticed. 

******* 

Six more days of travel, Katarina had been forced to put on the locket again as people became unavoidable both on and off the path. She had been very careful this time, looking through the hair she had before putting it into the locket and adopting the disguise of some sturdy-looking young man. 

She finally arrived at the first major town, and there were people, and soldiers especially, everywhere. Tying the horse in a small forest to the east of the town, she approached on foot, and discovered through gossip the reason for the commotion: Jarvan the fourth would be stopping here for the night, returning from his fateful trip down south where he had been severely wounded by a beast he hunted in a freak accident. What’s more, his father, Jarvan the third, had come from the capital to meet him, anxious to see his son, making this the first time in many years he has left the safety of his citadel walls. 

Katarina nearly leapt for joy. Of all the crossroads, of all the turns, she had chosen right, and had stumbled upon the very meeting place of the two individuals she now sought to kill. She knew this was a death mission, but what greater way to die than to kill one’s greatest enemies? 

A large crowd gathered outside of the fort now. Jarvan the third was currently inside it, awaiting the arrival of Jarvan the fourth. Katarina broke into a nearby house, empty as its occupants were outside with the rest of the rabble, and removed her locket, changing into her own clothes. Knowing she would most definitely wind up dead or captured regardless of the outcome today, she pulled a small piece of wire from her pack and wrapped it around her lower gums inside her mouth. Climbing upstairs to the second floor, she watched and waited from a window, wishing she had a crossbow or another ranged weapon, as she could not effectively throw her daggers and hope to deal a killing blow, much less two, from her vantage point. A ranged attack would be so much more safe. 

Finally, the horses of Jarvan the fourth’s coach could be heard coming, and a path was cleared for it, while the heavy gates of the fort opened. A procession of the various body guards came out of both: Garen, Luxanna, and Shyvana from the carriage, with five of the king’s guards, including the one called Xin Zhao, from the fort, and at last, the prince and king both stepped out, a huge smile on the king’s face as he moved to embrace his son. 

Katarina picked this moment, while they were hugging, to attack. Throwing the first dagger, she blink stepped to the king, slashing at his neck with a second dagger, as the first buried itself into his side. The crowd screamed and the guards moved into action, but for their king, they were already too late: She had cut his head clean off. She gave a terrifying grin and whispered to Jarvan, “pieces”, before blink stepping again both to dodge the bodies charging at her and to get behind Jarvan the fourth who now stepped back in horror. She plunged her dagger into his back, carving upwards as far as she could before a shoulder blade stopped her. Simultaneously with her other hand, she pulled out a third dagger, and again aimed for the neck, but was immediately knocked over before she could finish her swing. Laughing in triumph, she went down, still stabbing whatever she could reach, burying her daggers several more times into the guards before they overwhelmed her and she was beaten unconscious.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Groaning in pain, Katarina awoke, then marveled at the fact that she was still alive. Wincing as she sat up, she realized she was wearing chains both around her hands, and around her feet, and lay inside a cell. This was no surprise to her, for if she wasn’t dead, she was most definitely captured.

To her glee, the wire in her mouth had not been discovered. She glanced around outside her cell, and immediately spotted the guard who was staring right back at her, watching her every move. The wire would stay in her mouth for now, then.

Laughing, she taunted him. “Oooh, the little girl is wearing two sets of chains while sitting inside a locked cell, with a guard watching her every move, as if this weren’t enough. What are you so scared of? Afraid your precious, baby prince is gonna fall over and die? Just like your pathetic old king?”  
“Oh, I’m not scared of you,” he replied.  
“Oh, really? Hah, come in here and prove it, coward!”  
“I would, but I’ve been ordered not to kill you, and I don’t have a whip, or I’d beat you raw.”  
“Hah! You need a whip? Come on, that’s not gonna stop a normal person! You’re just a lily-livered-”  
Here he finally got up, his face contorted in rage. “I’ll teach you to keep your damned mouth shut!” he growled.

“Oh no! How scary! The big bad guard is gonna hurt me!” she mocked, and he did actually open the cell door. Balling his fists as he entered, he aimed a kick, but she jumped out of the way, slowly backing up as she continued to hurl insults at him, laughing the whole time. No longer at the end of her chains, she now had considerable movement, though continued to back up into a corner, pretending to have become vulnerable. Encouraged, the guard stepped forward to try to kick her once more, but she now dived to the side, and jumping up, she got onto his back, wrapping the chain attached to her wrists around his neck and held it tightly, hissing more insults into his ear. He tried to called for help, staggering as he tried to get the chain off, but he could only manage a sputtering cough. Moving backwards, he bashed her into a wall, trying to knock her off, but, determined, she held the chain tight until he collapsed, and didn’t let go until his breathing stopped and he lay still.

Pulling out the wire in her mouth, she worked it into the locks of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, picking them and freeing herself. She then armed herself with his sword and dagger, and cut his throat just in case the choking had not been enough before sneaking out of the unlocked cell. Climbing up the stairs from the dungeons, she realized she must be in the fort. Before she could get very far, however, she heard the heavy footsteps and voices of more men up ahead. She recognized at least one voice, the voice of Garen. With no place to hide, she backed down the staircase again, and hopping inside an empty cell, she hugged the wall, hoping none of the guards looked inside as they walked past.

As soon as they had passed, she quietly darted out again, and raced as quickly as she could up the stairs without betraying a sound. She heard shouts behind her, and could hear the guards now scramble, having found the dead guard in her cell. The dungeon must have been a dead end location, for it didn’t take them long to determine she was not down there, and she could hear them barreling up the stairs now.

Breaking into a run, Katarina threw caution to the wind as she needed speed now more than anything else. The shouting must have alerted more guards at the top and they now came running down, stopping in surprise as she dashed towards them. Blink stepping behind the furthest one she could see, she didn’t even stop to make a quick stab as she continued behind them. They began to shout, “close the door! Close the door! Escape, escape!” and she heard whatever door was at the end of these stairs creaking. Just as it came into view, she heard the ominous thud as the heavy door finished closing, trapping her inside. A scraping sound on the other side told her a bar had been placed across it, barricading it. Turning around with her sword and dagger drawn, she faced the oncoming guards. They were all heavily armoured, and slowly advanced, knowing they had her trapped.

“Stand down and surrender,” ordered one, as if she would listen. In reply, she blink stepped as far as she could towards the other side of the group, swinging and slashing around, and was rewarded with cries of pain and surprise. She attempted to blink step again to the front, only to find she had been gripped by her arm by none other than Garen, who flung her violently into the wall. Losing consciousness upon impact, the world went dark around her.

*******

After that, she had been afforded no other opportunity to escape. The prince’s elite guard personally took turns guarding her day and night, and none of her insults and mind games ever got a rise out of them, for they were far better trained than the oaf who had died. At some point she had lost the wire, though it hardly mattered with her captors keeping such a careful watch.

She instead spent most of her time curled up in the cell. Her arm was badly broken, and her body was battered and bruised. Gritting her teeth with tears streaming down her face, she had done her best to set the broken arm right, and now gingerly held it, hoping it would heal properly. She had asked for medical help with it, arguing that it was cruel and against Demacian law that their prisoners suffer needlessly. She was only mocked in response. Apparently, Demacian law only applies when those who enforce, felt like enforcing it.

The day came when they were finally ready to leave the town and travel to the capital. Bracing herself, she fought as hard as she could against them, but she had been fed very little and in addition to being extremely hungry, her arm was causing her an immense amount of pain. Someone had grabbed it at some point in the fight, twisting it back out of shape and nearly knocking her out from the pain as she screamed. She had gone limp after this, the fight evaporating from her, and soon was securely trapped inside the prison carriage.

Many days and nights passed as the carriage jostled and bounced across many miles. The unexpected bumps made for a miserable time trying to keep her arm in one, safe position, and she was sure it was never going to heal right again.

Finally the last leg of the journey approached, and to her horror, the vengeful Demacians had decided to put her on display; to drag her out of the carriage and force her to walk in chains from the outer gates of the capital to the penitentiary, a several-hour trip. The whole ordeal was already horrendous enough with the endless crowd shouting insults and throwing rotten waste, but her weakened state had her frequently tripping and stumbling, with the guards pulling her chains not caring whether she was upright or not. By the time she was being dragged into an uncomfortably familiar cell, she was barely awake and far more filthy, bloody, and battered than before. She sunk to the stone floor in defeat as she heard the clink of chains locking once more. The guards left now, locking the cage and leaving her to dwell in despair and agony on the cold floor of her prison.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Standing in formation on the Dauntless Vanguard, flanking his newly-crowned king, Garen watched at a slender, neatly clothed man nervously approached the throne with a scroll in hand, escorted by more of the Dauntless Vanguard.

Outside, the city was deep in celebration; it has been since Jarvan Lightshield IV became King, crowned in the Grand Plaza three days prior, and would continue to celebrate for a month longer. And yet here they were, indoors in the citadel, already cracking down to business in order to run the country, including addressing the seemingly endless stream of envoys from various factions within and without Demacia, all testing the waters with the change of leadership.

This single-man envoy apparently was from Noxus, and to say that everyone was a little tense was an understatement. Either Noxus was genuinely trying to make contact without provocation by only sending one individual, or this individual was seriously dangerous. Despite all his background information on the more higher-ranking of Noxian assassins, generals, and other persons of note, this man was a complete mystery to Garen, as he could recognize nothing about him.

When he reached the appropriate distance, the Noxian man kneeled to Jarvan, who after a few moments, invited him to rise. So they had managed to find the one civilized person for this task. “I have been informed you are from Noxus?” Jarvan asked the man, indicating for him to speak.

“Yes, your Majesty,” responded the man in a decidedly Noxian accent.

“And what brings a Noxian here?”

“I have been tasked with bringing you a letter, your Majesty, and I am to await your reply, so that I may carry it back to Noxus.”

“Hmm,” mused Jarvan, as he narrowed his eyes at the man. He nodded to one of the escorts to retrieve the scroll. The Noxian quickly obliged, handing his scroll to the guard. The guard took the scroll and handed it to Garen, who unfurled it, examining it carefully, and satisfied that it contained no magical traps, he finally handed it to Jarvan. Jarvan sat, reading the letter while everyone else stood in silence. After five minutes of contemplating the text, he set the scroll aside. “I shall have to think on this before I make a reply. You may stay in the guests’ quarters, though you shall be guarded during your stay, both for our safety, and for yours.”

“Oh, thank you, your Majesty!” the man was quick to respond, bowing deeply. “Yes, that makes sense, w-wouldn’t want any blood being shed, heh.” The man glanced around and chuckled nervously, then cleared his throat as his face went bright red when he realized no one else had responded. “Ah, uh, thank you, your Majesty.” One last bow before he desperately tried to make eye contact with his escorts, trying to figure out the next move in the political dance. As one, they turned around, showing him out, and he eagerly followed.

Once the doors shut behind the Noxian and his escort, Jarvan let out a sigh. “Alright, enough of this for now. I shall retire to my chambers. Garen, please meet me there.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Garen bowed his head, now wondering what was in the letter.

*******

When Garen arrived in Jarvan’s private office, he found his king facing the window, hands to his face. A shudder from his shoulders told Garen his friend was crying. “Is…” he started, but Jarvan waved for him to remain silent, so he stood and patiently waited. He knew Jarvan was still grieving for his father. After a long while, Jarvan gave a deep sigh, stood up a little straighter, and finally turned to face Garen. His face was reddened and tear-stained. “Forgive me. It seems I have no fortitude. Perhaps the council voted wrongly and I am not fit for this position.”

“Nonsense, my king. We all need time to grieve. You’ve hardly had any. Please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Jarvan gave a small, sad smile. “Hmm, but the world doesn’t stop to let me grieve. It doesn’t stop to give me time to heal. It doesn’t stop to let me prance off and party in the woods. No, I have a kingdom to think about, and too soon. But I will do my father proud, and carry on our fantastic legacy. Now,” he paused, pointing to the scroll, “the latest reason for my moment of weakness.” He gave a deep sigh, bracing himself as it would help hold back the tears welling up in his eyes once more. “They want the... assassin back. And they’ve made quite the offer.” His voice was shaking.

“Well, oh. Yes, it’s standard procedure, we usually return their dead-”

“They-” Another deep breath, and then he spoke more slowly, as if each word was disgusting to him- “want her alive. That is what this offer is for.”  
Garen frowned. “What an insult! Who are they to think they could possibly barter for-”

“Peace.” When Garen only stared at him in disbelief and confusion, Jarvan straightened up a bit, cleared his throat, and elaborated, “they’re spread thin,” he spoke slowly, thinking over each word, “we’ve known this for a long time now. I’ve had a hunch that they’ve been wanting to set aside one war in order to focus more on another, although I am surprised that this one happens to be the one they’ve chosen to retreat from. This letter confirms my suspicions. They would like to open negotiations, though the letter states they will only consider peace in exchange for the release of all our prisoners of war, including, and especially, the assassin.”  
“Then this is a simple matter, is it not? We cannot allow her to go free; she’s dangerous, and letting her live means letting her make another attempt on your life,” Garen frowned, bewildered at Jarvan for even giving this a second thought. “She killed your father, Jarvan! She’s killed hundreds, possibly thousands of good Demacians throughout her career! She deserves to die!”

“I know.” Jarvan’s face contorted into a picture of fury and hatred. “And I am sick with anger for it. But,” Jarvan paused, taking another deep breath to calm himself, “as much as it pains me, I must set my personal feelings aside, for this presents Demacia an even greater opportunity. We know Noxus will not be able to find rest, they will still be fighting many other wars. We, however, stand to gain much more from this potential treaty, as we will enjoy a golden age of peace and prosperity, and we will rest and grow in strength while our enemy continues to weaken themselves.”

Garen thought on the words for a few minutes before speaking again. “Yes, I suppose that would, in theory, work. But surely there is a way we can negotiate this with just the release of the rest of the rabble?”  
“I am hoping so. I will make an attempt to exclude her from the treaty, but I have a feeling I will need that bitch alive, at least for the meanwhile.”  
“Your people will never accept this, though.”  
“It is not for them to decide.”  
“The council voted for you as their head; you still must weigh their opinions in your decisions.”

Jarvan sighed. “I have also thought of this. And I know the answer; they won’t do it. They’re too invested in their own little worlds that they don’t see the bigger picture.” Another exhausted sigh. “It is why, against any thought I would have had previously, I am considering faking her escape, but I will need your help, if you will give it. I trust you the most of anyone I know, Garen Crownguard, my longest friend and greatest protector.”

Garen immediately knew he wasn’t going to like this. With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, he asked the question he knew Jarvan wanted him to ask, “what is it you would have me do, your Majesty?”

Jarvan sat down at the desk, and steepled his fingers, frowning. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “I’ll need help to plan and fake the escape, but then, I need somewhere to keep her while the treaty is being negotiated. I cannot keep her here at the citadel, staff are in every nook and cranny, and of course, this is entirely between just you and I. And obviously she cannot be kept at the penitentiary she had supposedly escaped from. I am wondering, can you keep her on your estate here in the capital, away from prying eyes?”

Garen thought on this for a while. “Well, there’s a section of the basement that is currently unused, and no one ever goes down there. Hmm, I will need time to commission improvements to it, though.”

“Time I can give. I want to send my reply, and see where the negotiations go before I make any further steps. Thank you for your help in this, Garen. One last note, here is a letter to Malkov. I am placing you as the only person keeping charge of her at the prison until then. Condemned to death or not, she’s suffered excessive cruelty at the hands of her wardens, which is an embarrassment that I will not allow to continue.”

“Yes, my king.”

*******

 

Katarina was uncertain of the passage of time, having no view of the outside world. It felt so long ago that she had killed the king, and her life since then had been hell. Receiving no medical attention for her arm or for anything else, for she was a hated enemy condemned to death, the best she could do was try to keep her arm straight and still, and keep the scrapes and scratches on herself as clean as possible.

One small mercy did exist, and that was that Garen had been placed in charge of her care. Under normal circumstances, she hated him and everything about him. But his refusal to treat anyone cruelly, no matter how much he despised them, was a much needed relief from the penitentiary guards and staff, who, prior to Garen’s takeover, regularly came in to gawk and to hurl insults, rotting food, and worse at her.

Even so, she still hated him, and she hated how helpless she was. Having learned well from the previous encounters, he took absolutely no chances with her now. When she was to be interrogated for what little information she possessed, he had simply darted her, and when she re-awoke, she was already strapped down in the awful restraint chair, and had already been force fed a truth-telling serum. Unable to stop herself under the effects, she babbled for hours. Having received training for just this sort of situation, she had done her best to redirect the conversation or twist truths beyond recognizability. Even when he slowly managed to get some scrap of information or another out of her, she knew so very little that wasn’t redundant or obvious, and at every opportunity, told her captor gleefully that all her information was at best months upon months old. Twelve hours later, Garen had given up. All told, she had given maybe fifteen minutes of actual truths that might have been informative for him, buried amidst sheets upon sheets of the transcript.

She had figured she’d be dead the next day, of no further use for the Demacians, but for whatever reason, she lingered on in suffering. For the first few days, Garen had come in, trying to talk to her, trying to approach her, but she would not let him anywhere near her, and as best as her failing strength would let her, she lashed out at him, trying to hurt him. Eventually, he had her darted again, and when she woke up, she found herself lying on the stone floor with him sitting next to her. She felt great, her body not in pain, and as she sprung up and away from him, getting into a fighting stance, she realized her arm, which had previously been hanging at odd angles, had been set straight and was tightly bandaged and in a cast.

Sitting down in confusion, she looked at it in wonderment. Medical help had not been on her list of things she expected from Garen or anyone else in this place.  
“There, if you like that, and you want more good things to happen, then might I suggest losing the stubborn streak and obeying for once?”  
Fully knowing she should probably listen to his advice, Katarina chose to ignore it, giving him a mean scowl and shuffling away from him as far as the chains attached to her ankles would let her. Garen shrugged. “Well, since you’re successfully awake again, I am done here for the moment. If isolation is what you desire, I shall leave you to it.” Without another word, he got up and left. Immediately, Katarina was angry with herself. She was feeling better than she had for the past while, and yet she squandered her opportunity to attack. Granted, her attacks never accomplished anything except to keep her captors on their toes around her, but she was determined to never let them think they were ever getting control of her.

Garen continued to visit regularly. Offering the painkiller as a reward, he tried to coax her into behaving how he wanted, but Katarina never wasted another chance to attack, even as the drugs that had nulled her pain wore off and her arm needed rebandaging again. Every rebandaging was a terrifying experience, though. Regardless of her struggles, Garen viewed this as necessary, and so would force her to the ground, pinning her torso and good arm under his knees, and keeping her at the extent of the chains so that she could not kick her legs. Then he would change the bandage on her arm and inspect the metal pieces that were attached to the bones, holding them in place, paying no heed to her pained screams.

One day, she found she had enough of this rough handling, and instead of jumping at him and trying to attack him, she found herself backing away into a corner, screaming at him to stay away. He watched her from where he stood, not moving to her for the moment, deep in thought. Finally, he stepped forward, ignoring her pleas for him to leave. Moving quickly, she tried to duck past him, but he easily caught her by her shoulders. She flinched when he touched her, expecting a careless grab, and was surprised when he gently picked her up and sat down, placing her in his lap instead, carefully wrapping his arms around her.

She found herself liking the embrace and, still gasping for air from her sobbing, she rested her head against his chest. Absentmindedly he had been stroking her face while he talked in a low, soothing voice, whatever words he had been saying lost upon her. The talking came to an end, and he shifted as if to get up, pulling his hand away. Not wanting this reprieve to be over, Katarina’s hands shot up, holding his hand against her face. Surprised, he resumed the stroking, and they sat there in a long silence.

A second time, Garen stopped, and gently placed her on the floor beside him. “That was very good. Though I still need to change the bandage. Hmm, here, have a painkiller, you’ve earned it.”

Taking the small pill, she eagerly swallowed it down with some water from a pitcher, and as the aching subsided from her arm, she calmly let Garen fix the arm, and he left quietly.

*******

The day had finally come. It had been just shy of two months for this to be arranged. In that time, Garen had learned that his world was not all that it seemed to be. In a normal world, the wretched assassin that had murdered his best friend’s father, his king, would have been dead, as justice would dictate. But his best friend had surprised him with this crazy plan, defying convention, and maybe a few laws, as he communicated back and forth with his oldest enemies.

Not even the assassin herself was as black and white as he had previously thought. He could no longer consider her just a heartless, evil monster without his own mind throwing examples contradicting that supposed fact: Seeing her scared and vulnerable as she grew weaker over the weeks, crying for help when she thought no one was around to hear her, seeing her witty and clever, and even humorous when she had been interrogated. He had laughed out loud in his office as he read the transcript, trying to discern anything meaningful through her remarks. Then when she had let him hold her, she had felt so normal in his arms, seeking comfort from him - from him! His mind had not played tricks on him, he was sure that had been her hands that held his to her cheek.

Why did the world have to be so complicated? He dearly wanted to go back to the one where he knew his people were good, and their enemies were definitely evil, and that there was no reasoning with them.

For what was probably the fourth or fifth time in these weeks, the pale Noxian messenger, flanked by the Dauntless Vanguard, approached and bowed to Jarvan, while the rest of the Dauntless Vanguard stood to attention around their king.

“Here, Noxian, is my final reply,” stated Jarvan, passing a scroll to a guard who walked it to the messenger. “And when shall I hear back from your High Command?”  
The Noxian hesitated for a moment, thinking. “I, ah, your Majesty.” A quick apologetic bow. “We are not yet certain. There are a lot of minds to move. Lots of metaphorical blood being shed. So very draining. Ah- um, ahem.” The man had a habit of saying odd things, and then going bright red when he realized he said something unusual, Garen had noticed. “I have been informed to let you know that it may be weeks before the next step.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

When the nervous Noxian man had left the room, Jarvan also signaled to the rest of his guard. “Everyone is dismissed, except for Garen Crownguard. I need to speak with you.”

As Garen watched the rest of the Dauntless Vanguard make their own silent, graceful exit, he let out a sigh. “Alright, time for us to put in motion this absurd plan, I am guessing?”

“Yes, indeed. Have you made the appropriate preparations?”

“Of course, your Majesty. I have reservations about faking her escape, though. There’s a very real possibility of it not being just fake, your Majesty.”

“Just play your part, this will be fine. You said she’s weakened, didn’t you? She should be easier than normal to control.”

“Her ‘normal’ is impossible, though. This is still dangerous. Please reconsider.”

“No, her scheduled execution is in three days. We don’t have time.”

*******

Step one: get the vocal cord-paralyzing potion down her throat. Worry about step two later. Anxiety slowly crawling through his body and making its way into his stomach, Garen decided to focus on his current task by breaking it down into the smallest parts he could. Walk to the prison cell. Unlock the cell. Close the door behind him. See her crouched in a corner, scowling at him. ...Ask her to drink the potion? She would never consent, that would be easy, and nothing was ever easy with this woman. Still, he had to try.

“Good morning. I have something I need you to drink,” he began carefully. The scowl was replaced with extreme suspicion. “No, it has nothing to do with your death, that happens in three days, not now. Just drink it, it won’t hurt. And it’ll be easier than me forcing it down your throat.” He knew she violently hated being force-fed, and the look of hate and fury, mixed with a little bit of horror, that now occupied her starving features confirmed that this had not changed in the least. He poured a cup of water from the pitcher, and added the appropriate amount of drops into it before carefully moving it towards her and setting it down on the ground within what he knew she could reach. “See, you just have to drink that. It won’t hurt you, I promise.” In fact, judging by how hoarse she always sounded, it would probably help her.

To his utter amazement, Katarina actually carefully moved forward. He took a few steps back to give her room, hoping that might help her decision-making in the right direction. Garen watched for a tense minute as she carefully picked up the cup and began to drink from it. Her hands were trembling, and he was worried she might drop it and spill the cup’s contents. But a minute later, the liquid was gone, and she weakly threw the cup at him. He was only half-expecting this, stunned at her cooperation thus far, and the cup bounced off his thigh before falling and smashing against the stone floor into a million little pieces.

He sighed. Of course, it wouldn’t be Katarina if she didn’t cause some kind of trouble every step of the way. He worried for the next step: Getting her to the interrogation room. On the paperwork end of things, this much had already been set up. He just had to physically get her there. That started with the chain. Unlock the chain from the wall. Lock the chain to his waistbelt. Be chained to an aggravating, and still dangerous, assassin. Pick her up, probably, and carry her to the interrogation room. Try not to let her grab anything.

Another sigh, and he walked towards the wall to unlock the chain. Apparently, this movement had triggered something inside Katarina, and she was now getting up into a fighting stance - a very shaky one, but he knew now that whatever angel was inside her that told her to drink the water was now gone. Quickly, the chain was transported from wall to belt, and he turned to face her - and got a punch in the face for his trouble. It wasn’t very hard, not enough to give him a nosebleed and certainly not enough to break anything, but it was hard enough to momentarily stun him, and in this time, the shaky, weak Katarina had managed to weave herself through his legs and get the chain tangled up, effectively tying his feet up.

“Oh for the love of…” Garen muttered as he grabbed her by the arm to hold her in place. Stepping out of the chain loops she had made, he got himself untangled even while she clawed and bit at the hand that was holding her arm, unable to scream thanks to the potion. Amazed at how ineffective her attacks were, Garen let a little of the anxiety in him flutter away. Maybe this plan would work, after all. Maybe the weeks of restricted food were finally paying off.

Picking her up, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held both of her tiny wrists in that hand, while gripping the chain near her ankles to keep her from kicking out with the other. She thrashed and struggled and tried to break free of his hold, to no avail, and even momentarily letting go of her legs to close the cell door behind him, he easily hauled her off to the penitentiary office.

*******

Katarina was confused.

Frustration and fury were two emotions she was definitely feeling, but the confusion was still even greater. Garen had given her a potion that had taken what little of her voice was left away, and now they were in the room with the awful restraint chair. The interrogation room. But she couldn’t talk, and she had already been interrogated, for 12 long hours. So why were they here?

Regardless, she was determined not to let herself be tied down once again, though determination alone was not getting her very far. Unfortunately, her strength was gone, completely gone. Whereas it had taken four men a wretchedly long time to get her secured into this chair before, Garen, alone as he was, was having no difficulty and quickly had her feet and torso completely immobilized.

That’s when Jarvan poked his head through the door and told Garen he would be making his announcement soon, and to come upstairs to the third level. To Katarina’s amazement, Garen seemed to completely forget about what he was doing, leaving her arms completely free as he turned away and left the room. Astounded at her luck, Katarina quickly undid the rest of the straps again, and clinging to the wall for support, she carefully staggered to the door. She still had two daggers hidden in the personal effects room, and that was where she wanted to go now. Cracking open the door into the hallway, she glanced around and was relieved to find it empty, and she crept towards the room labelled “PRISONER BELONGINGS”. It was locked, and just as she was contemplating ripping the hidden wire out of her now very worn-down gear, she heard a door open, and saw at the other end of the hallway, Garen, with his head in the doorway of the warden’s office and talking to the warden. How he had not seen her, Katarina didn’t know, but she carefully crept backwards towards the stairwell at the opposite end of the hallway, glancing downward to check for the shadows of anyone coming up the stairs while keeping a sharp eye on Garen until she could no longer see him.

Finally at the bottom, she was equally surprised by how empty the lobby was - no guards were present, and not even the secretary was behind the desk. Were they all up on the third level, listening to Jarvan’s announcement? As quickly as her failing strength would allow, Katarina staggered to the front entrance. Glancing through the windows on the doors, she saw a mostly empty courtyard. There were guards posted at the gates, but she had spied an open coach right near the doorway. If she could hide in or under it, she might be able to get out. The problem was reaching the carriage without being spotted. The distance was an easy blink step, but Katarina had always had trouble blink stepping towards non-living objects. She had only recently managed the feat of jumping to her own daggers, only because they were so familiar to her. But now, this coach was a foreign object. Still, she had to try. It was her only option. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, and meditating on the energy within that let her move from place to place, she made the motions, focusing and staring at the seat just inside the open door of the carriage. Nothing.

Taking more deep breaths to quell the panic inside her, she again tried her focus, but could feel it slipping away from her once more. Just before the energy went lax, she heard loud footsteps behind her, and through her panic, the world around her disappeared in a blur, and she found herself on the seat, in the coach. She gave a huge sigh of relief.

Her relief was almost immediately cut short by someone simultaneously grabbing her hair and shutting the door to the coach behind them. She would have let out a startled cry if she could. She heard a chuckle, then an all too familiar voice softly spoke, “and that’s why I made you drink that potion, so you wouldn’t scream.”

Garen shifted his single-handed grip from her hair to both her wrists as he tucked her under his massive arm, sitting on the coach seat. In his other hand, he held a needle containing something, and despite her desperate attempts to break free of his grip, this needle went into her tightly held wrist. Putting down the empty needle, Garen next pulled out a chest from under the opposite seat, and opening it, it was revealed to contain two sets of chains with shackles on each, with a thick blanket lining the bottom. Knowing what was coming, Katarina squirmed and kicked in his grasp, though with even the short distance she had just travelled, she was very much worn out, and soon all four shackles were secured around all four limbs. Knocking her down, Garen shoved her inside, and quickly secured the lid in place, before shoving the box back under the seat. Satisfied, he got up and left.

Five minutes later, the alarm bells went off, and guards began scrambling around the grounds, in search of the Sinister Blade, who had just escaped. Shortly after, Garen and Jarvan climbed into the carriage, with Garen shouting to the driver to take them to the citadel, “as this place is currently compromised, and unsafe for the king.”

Garen, and in fact, the king, however, did not seem all that concerned as the carriage began to roll. In fact, from what Katarina could tell, they seemed to be downright pleased with themselves, congratulating each other.

Katarina was still confused, though now she was also very sleepy in the soft, cloth-lined box. Even as the realization crept into her mind of what had been in the needle, she drifted away into unconsciousness.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Eyes snapping open, Katarina found herself staring at stone, again. But she was not lying on stone. In fact, as she lifted her head up, she found herself in a very nice bed. Snuggling back into the blankets, she took a look around the room she was in. She seemed to be in some sort of bedroom, and it was a nice one. Curiosity getting the better of her, she finally got up from the large bed and carefully walked around. Her reflection in a large vanity mirror shocked her - she was so very thin, and had a fair few more scars than when she last bothered to count. Her old, worn leather outfit had also been replaced by simple linen clothes, and she banished the question of how that happened from her mind - she didn’t want to think about the implications.

She had noticed a chain attached to her ankle, and the fact that this otherwise luxurious bedroom was completely windowless did not escape her. She knew she was in a gilded cage. But why? Garen had faked her escape, possibly with Jarvan’s help. That much she realized. Why would they, of all people, want her alive, but hidden away and caged?

With this thought, the memory of a specific conversation she had heard before returned: The vacationing Demacians had mentioned caging her at that awful dinner. It suddenly made sense: Only Garen, and possibly Jarvan, would have known how she had ‘escaped’ from the penitentiary. Since Garen reported only to Jarvan, and Jarvan reported to no one, they didn’t have to tell anyone about what really happened, and let news of her escape run wild. Sneaky fuckers. Angered, she tugged on her own hair, too weak to express herself in any other way. She would not let them do this. Crouching, she inspected the chain. There must be something in this room that could help her pick the lock.

But no lock was found. In fact, she could not fathom how they had gotten the shackle on her, it had no mechanism for opening. It was just a solid ring. A recently welded solid ring… Now that she was paying attention, mingled in with all the other aches and pains in her body, this ankle seemed to be burning with a new pain she had not felt before, as if it had been too close to heat recently. It wasn’t physically burnt, though, suggesting that a barrier may have been in the way initially. How very intelligent of them; give the lockpicker plenty of tools in a room full of objects, but nothing to pick. Inspecting the rest of the chain, she looked at each link, but the chain was well made, and none of the links looked much weaker than the rest. The end of it, too, was attached to a thick metal rod buried into the stone floor in the middle of the room, and, testing it, she found that it would not budge. This cage had been well thought out for its specific prisoner.

Laughing bitterly, all its fancy decor seemed so mocking now. With her arms, she swept a table clear of its dishes, smashing them on the ground in rage. Still hot with anger, she took the larger, still-recognizable pieces, and threw these on the ground a second time, until only small fragments remained.

Two meaty hands placed themselves on her shoulders as she finished with the last large fragment, causing her to nearly jump to her feet in alarm, if they hadn’t held her in place. “What are you doing?” Looking up, she found herself staring into Garen’s face. He had a look of contempt on his face.

“I hate you!” she hoarsely hissed back at him, twisting out from his grip and diving for a sharp piece of pottery. He had grabbed the chain right close to her ankle before she could cover the distance, and dragged her along by it. “Yes, you hate everything,” he sighed, “including my generosity in providing you this room. If you don’t like this alternative to a dark, barren cell with nothing to do, then I can impose that on you as well.”

Kicking and trying to scream as he dragged her to the center of the room, she tried to get up, but the constant movement thwarted her. When he reached the connection for the chain, she lunged at him as he bent down low to the chain, but he shrugged her off, and, pinning her to the ground by the neck in one hand with her scratching and trying to peel it off, he used the other to do something with the metal rod in the ground. Katarina heard a click, and Garen finally released her, jumping back as she quickly got up to try to hurt him. Her jump was stopped short and she fell to the stone floor, and spun around to see what happened: He had taken a lock and looped the chain together, reducing the tether to a mere foot long.

“There, if you would rather destroy what you are given, then you shall be given nothing at all.” With these words, Garen snuffed out each mounted candle, taking with him the last one, and walked out of the room again as silently as he came, as Katarina hoarsely screamed after him in anger.

The door shut, Katarina stopped screaming and collapsed on the floor, rolling onto her back. She was exhausted. Hugging herself, she felt so much more slender than she had been months ago. She had been either on the move or imprisoned with too little to eat, for too long, and was now far too weak to keep on fighting. Kicks that would have left Garen bruised and crying before had done nothing to dissuade him now. Brawn was no longer working for her. She would have to become more masterful with her mind games.

Outside of her reach, the rest of the room taunted her. Who knows what could be found that could be useful in somehow breaking this chain? Even the bed would be nice. Compared to the hard, cold stone she was now trapped on, it had been like heaven.

*******

The next time Katarina saw Garen again, he had brought with him some food. It was not very much, but she did wonder if she could convince him to bring more. Sitting up politely, she watched him approach. Garen hesitated at this. He obviously had expected her to behave differently, and she could tell he was unsure how to respond. “Well, I see you’re in a better mood. Does the shortened chain really suit your preferences so well?”

“No. I figured if I’m nice I might get the rest of the room back,” she replied as sweetly as she could muster.

“We’ll see. I know you’re up to something, so it’s gonna take more than sitting pretty to convince me you’re not just going to trash the place as soon as I have my back turned.”

He had a fair point, she was reluctant to admit. She would have to work harder to get his guard down. He placed the food in front of her, and let her eat, walking around the room as he lit the candles again with his own before sitting in front of her. The food was about as much as it had been ever since she had been captured, but that had never been enough for her. When the last bite went down, she looked up at him again. “Um, that wasn’t very much. Any chance I could have more?”

“No.” This answer came bluntly and immediately, leaving her somewhat stunned. “No? Why not? You’re going to fucking starve me to death! I can’t eat this little!”

“Not to death, just until you can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“I will die before I stop being capable of destruction,” she growled at him, her anger now rising hotly, the pretense of good behaviour quickly vanishing. “And besides that, what business have you got starving-”

Garen was now standing over her, and out of reach. It took Katarina a few seconds to realize that she had even been trying to reach for him, to scratch his eyes out and strangle him. Crouching down to meet her at eye level, he smiled mockingly, “Yes, what business do I have, starving you? Would you prefer I let you have the energy to destroy and kill everything you can? Does that make sense to you?”

“Shut up-!” she shouted at him, her voice cracking again. She paused when she saw his face twist further into an amused grin and heard him laugh. Between his smug, holier-than-thou attitude and the short chain around her ankle keeping her from accomplishing anything, Katarina could feel her mental fortitude falling away and dissolving into hopelessness. “Bully…” she mumbled under her breath as she turned away, curling up on the floor, before a sob leapt from deep within her chest, unbidden.

The first sob gave way to more, and try as she might, she couldn’t suppress them and swallow them away. She could only hold herself in a tight ball and hoped the living bane of her existence would soon go away. He didn’t. She heard him shift feet, but he didn’t seem to move otherwise. He was probably gloating. Loathsome asshole.

After what seemed like an eternity, Katarina had managed to get the wretched sobbing under control, and was left with just the occasional gasp. Garen finally broke the silence, clearing his throat quietly. “You…” he started slowly, pausing as if he were contemplating his words carefully. In an even gentler voice, he started again, “I can imagine that this is very difficult for you. To be so thoroughly trapped with no way out. And lashing out like you always have isn’t working for you. I know you know that. Okay?”

A pause.

“So let’s… start with a fresh slate. You stop destroying everything you can reach, so that your stay here can be at least somewhat more tolerable, and I trust you that you won’t destroy everything within your reach. How about it?”

The words were soothing to her exhausted, demoralized mind, and Katarina found herself slowly getting up again. She gave a small nod, though she couldn’t manage to make eye contact. Inside, she was a boiling mess, hating herself for giving in to her captor, wanting to keep screaming at him until he went away. But he was right, it wasn’t working, and it was only making her weaker. To give herself some much-needed relief, she had to play his game, not hers.

“I… want a hug,” she mumbled quietly. No, she didn’t want it. She needed it. She needed something that would assure her that not all hope was lost, that someone out there was still capable of showing her affection, that there was still some comfort to be had, that this existence didn’t have to be complete misery. Whether they meant to enslave her or eventually kill her, maybe she could make the most out of the situation, and be as comfortable as she could be.

Garen managed to look only mildly surprised at her request, and he quietly sat down next to her and held his arms open to her. Sitting up, Katarina carefully crawled onto his lap and rested her head against his chest as a pair of huge, muscled arms wrapped around her gingerly. Closing her eyes, she banished thoughts of the arms crushing her beneath their strength and weight from her imagination as she forced herself to enjoy the moment, breathing deeply and listening to his heartbeat. She imagined that she was being embraced by a person who loved her, perhaps her sister or the street rat, or even her missing father. She tried to forget, in that moment, the reality in which she actually lived.

After a long, quiet rest, she finally opened her eyes again. Of course, her situation had not changed, but she did feel a lot better. As she stirred again, Garen gently placed her on the ground, and finally undid the tether. As he got up and headed towards the door, Katarina got up and as quickly as her aching body would move, made for the screened-off area, and as she suspected, found that behind it were indeed a bathing tub as well as a toilet.

Her pants appeared to have buttons going down the length that was on the leg with the chain, allowing her to take it off with the chain still on, and to her delight, she found that the bathtub could pump hot water. She could hear the sound of pottery being swept up as she cleaned herself, meaning Garen had returned, evidently with something to clean up the pottery. He seemed to respect her privacy, for he never approached the screened-off area.

Clean and feeling fresh, she put the clothes back on and glanced around the screen. Garen appeared to be gone for the moment, along with the mess she had made earlier. She slowly wandered around the room, inspecting each object carefully. The vanity that was next to the bed was mostly useless, and somewhat horrifying to look at; she still didn’t like her reflection. A writing desk and bookshelf were the next pieces she looked at. She scanned the titles of the books, and found nearly all were about Demacian standards and sappy moral-telling stories, along with no less than three copies of the Measured Tread. Katarina rolled her eyes. Behind her, she heard someone enter the room again. Spinning around, she saw Garen walk in. He gave her an approving nod.

“Good. Then I am blowing out the candles for the night. I hope to find this room to be in good condition tomorrow morning.”

“Mmhmm,” was her only reply as she staggered over to the bed, very much looking forward to its soft blankets. She wasn’t tired - she had just slept for as long as she could in total darkness. But with the returning darkness now, there was not much she could actually do other than sleep.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

As the days went by, Katarina got better and better at her act. Sometimes, she would slip up, revealing the volatile, unpredictable monster underneath, but slowly, over all, she had managed to gain a little of Garen’s trust, piece by piece.

Today, however, she was in a sour mood. The previous day, Garen had given her an an unexpected and very unwelcome peck on her forehead, and at the time, she had been too shocked to respond effectively. For the rest of the night, she had brooded over it, growing angrier and angrier as the hours passed by, plotting her revenge.

When Garen finally entered, she got up, and quietly ate the food he set in front of her, maintaining a facade of calmness as he walked about lighting the room up. She watched him carefully, musing how she would accomplish her mission to hurt him.

Noticing the darkened circles around his eyes and the slight shuffling of his feet, she realized he was very tired. An idea coming to mind, she made a comment on it. “You look very tired. Long day?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, constantly, so much to do lately,” he mumbled as they stood up.

“Hmph. Could catch a few Z’s on that bed. Not like you have anything better to do, I’m just gonna go bathe and maybe read a little while I have light.”

As she walked over to the screened area, he nodded at this. “Yeah, not a bad idea,” and she heard him shuffle over to the bed. With any luck, he would be snoring in a few minutes. Deciding to give him time to get into a deep sleep, she actually did bathe and clean up, then sneaked out of the screened area.

Garen was curled up in the bed with his back to her, and she saw his massive chest rise and fall slowly in slumber. You should sleep forever, fucker, Katarina thought with a malicious grin on her face. She tiptoed over to him, picking up the chain as she went. Wrapping the chain around a bedpost to anchor it, she drew it taut from the floor, giving herself as much of it to work with. Shaping it into a slip knot, she paused, judging the plan. She would have to act quickly, for she was likely to wake him up during the next move, but hopefully he would be sufficiently confused and buy her some time to finish executing her plan.

Taking a deep breath, Katarina moved, gently placing the chain around Garen’s head, then as he slowly began to stir, quickly shoved it between his head and the pillow, succeeding in getting it around his neck. As soon as it was in place, Katarina pulled, using all of her weight, and wrapped herself and the tightening chain around the foot of the bed. Garen was now fully awake, and choking as he struggled, scrambling in confusion as his head was forced to the side of the bed. Looking about, he grabbed the chain and yanked, nearly dislodging Katarina from her position tightly wrapped and clinging to the bed post, hoping he would lose consciousness soon.

He didn’t. Instead, he managed to grip the chain, and now pulling even harder as he put his full strength and weight against the chain and against Katarina. He finally caused her to lose her grip, slackening the chain for just long enough to get it off from around his neck. The exertion had badly sprained her ankle, and she found herself unable to use it, collapsing to the floor when she accidentally put her weight on the foot as she struggled to get up to face him. There was no running from him with his hands still on the chain.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” He roared. Red in the face from anger and choking, he reached to grab her. Katarina dodged the flailing arm and desperately jumped at him from the side, again taking what portion of the chain she still had in reach and, by chance, got it around his neck again.  
Emboldened by this small success, Katarina screamed at him in rage as she jumped on his back and held the chain as tight as she could, desperately trying to strangle him. “Don’t you EVER kiss me again! Don’t you EVER touch me again! You’re a fucking monster, and I’m sick of rotting away in here! I will never be your servant! NEVER! I will kill you! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

Still catching his breath, Garen had trouble getting her off of him this time, and for a moment, Katarina thought she might actually succeed. That moment lasted for only a second, though, as Garen backed into the wall as fast as he could, nearly crushing her chest, and effectively stunning her long enough to get her off of him. Her vision spinning from hitting her head on the wall, she tried to get up again, and felt Garen grab a handful of her hair, and drag her over to the center of the room by it as she coughed from being so forcefully winded. Locking the chain in place again, Garen stormed out of the room.

Exhausted, Katarina flopped onto her back, gasping for air as her whole body was enveloped in pain.

*******

Holding the whip in his hand as he stormed back to the room, Garen felt awful. He hated to use this thing on a person, but at the moment, he was horribly angry, and he hated her more. She had tried to kill him, and she very nearly succeeded. It was not an action that could go unpunished.

Opening the door, he stepped into the room again. Katarina had not moved much from where he had left her. When she saw what was in his hand, she gave a hollow laugh at him. “Oh, look who’s got no control over his temper! Ha ha ha!” He could tell she was faking the confidence, though, the now trembling arms and legs betraying her as she attempted to get up.

He made the first strike, and his anger nearly dissipated as he watched her flinch at the sound, then collapse and curl into a screaming ball of hate and pain as the whip struck her. Steeling himself, he brought down the whip on her again. Another bad flinch, and if it weren’t for her cursing his name and screaming terrible insults at him, he would not have had the heart to continue. A third, a fourth, and a fifth strike quickly followed before she fell silent, hissing and seething as she remained curled up in her defensive ball. The wrath had left Garen completely now, and he regretted having to inflict the lashes on her, but somehow Katarina was still far more angry than she was scared, or so she showed. Sticking to his original plan of ten lashes, he struck a sixth time, and she began to scream at him again, this time more coherently.

“Stop! Fucking stop!-”  
CRACK! A seventh strike down.  
“Bully! Coward! You can’t-”  
CRACK! Eight, two more to go.  
“You never said-!”  
CRACK! One more.  
“You never...”

CRACK! Finally, the task was done. Katarina was now sobbing, incoherently spitting out words, trying to say something but no longer making any sense. Unable to bear her presence any longer, he blew out the candles again and left her in the darkness. Her crying followed him down the hall, and haunted him inside his own skull.

Why did she want to kill him so badly? He had tried to give her a comfortable existence, at least as comfortable as was possible in her position. But obviously Katarina must see the situation in a very negative light. She had spent more time imprisoned than not since the previous summer, and that time had been very brutal on her. He felt terrible about it, but there was absolutely no way he could loosen the security measures on her, still dangerous and cunning as she was, as she had just reminded him.

He knew one thing was certain, though: He wouldn’t touch her again unless absolutely necessary. Above all else, she seemed to hate that the most.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning, after having a long rest in the safety of his own bed, Garen felt much better. Thinking back to the previous evening, he grew concerned. Normally, he had too much going on in a day to sneak off and visit Katarina more than once, but now he rushed to get through his morning routine before grabbing his medical kit and hurrying down to the basement once more.

If Katarina had noticed him entering, she didn’t show it. In fact, she didn’t move at all, save for the heavy breathing. Quickly lighting up only the closest candles, he approached her carefully, and still she didn’t move. “Katarina?” he whispered. This got a small mumble from her and she attempted to get up, though acted very disoriented before collapsing again.

Cautiously placing a hand on her forehead, he quickly realized she had a terrible fever. Scooting to her side, he carefully inspected the scratches made by the whip, and found many spots inflamed. As well, many areas over her body had severe bruising, and the ankle was swollen and tight underneath the chain. Unlocking the lock on her chain, he carried her over to the bath, and, placing her on a clean towel, he filled the tub with hot water. Grateful she was nearly unconscious, he removed her shirt and began to clean the wounds with a fresh cloth. The only response she made was more feverish mumbling, with the occasional twitching limbs.

A few stitches and many bandages later, Garen put the shirt back on before picking her up again. She was so very bony, and weighed so little. Deciding against leaving her on the floor again, he placed her in the bed. The purple-blue marks had been obvious to him as he had been bandaging her, and the stone floor would have been painful.

Not able to do anything with the ankle, he could only hope she didn’t try to use that foot too much, to give it a good rest. Satisfied with his work, he returned to the bath area; the fever still had to be dealt with. Filling a pitcher with cold water, and soaking a cloth, he returned to the bed and wiped Katarina’s face with it. The cooling cloth seemed to revive her momentarily and she opened her eyes a little. Garen lifted her up slightly and held a cup of water to her mouth, hoping she would drink it. Confused and disoriented, she shook her head, trying to get rid of the foreign object in front of her face before shutting her eyes and going still again. Not giving up, Garen wiped her face again and kept the cold cloth on her forehead, and she awoke with complaint, mumbling. Again the cup was pressed against her lips, and, still disoriented, she automatically began to drink it.

He managed to get two cups of water into her before she refused to drink any more, and, happy with this at the least, he re-soaked the cloth with cold water and wrapped it around her head, and left a filled cup on the bedside table, lest she wanted it later.

*******

As the room lit up candle by candle, Katarina slowly came to. Watching the big lump in her view make its way over to her, she growled at it when it reached to touch her for some reason or another.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were awake.” The hands held back for a moment. “But I do still need to check you over and change the bandages. Hmm, I need a towel...” The large shadow receded into the distance and disappeared for the moment.

Bandages? What bandages? Katarina groaned as she tried in vain to sit up. Her strength failing her, the best she could do was roll over onto her side. Running her shaking hands over her body, she found the bandages lining her side, and the memory of the whipping came back to the front of her mind as she remembered what was under those bandages.

So I am getting bandages for that. That’s nice. Sinking back into the pillows, Katarina watched through barely-opened eyes as the object came back again. “Did you fall asleep again?” it whispered. Exhausted, Katarina gave no reply, only watching as her eyelids grew heavy again. When she felt herself being picked up, she gave a startled cry as she flinched, squirming to escape. “Sorry, but I have to do this, so you’re just going to need to tolerate it for a bit. I promise I’m not trying to hurt you at all.”

Anger quickly waking her, she realized she was now propped up in Garen’s lap, and the monster was removing her shirt. She gave a shriek in protest as she tucked her arms firmly to her sides, trying to stop him. He only sighed, and put the towel in her hands. “If you need, use this to cover yourself. Be difficult or not, it won’t help you anyway.” To prove his point, he effortlessly lifted one arm against her struggling, and took the sleeve off, and switched to the other side, repeating. Screaming in frustration at him, and at her own limbs for not cooperating with her, Katarina clutched the towel to her chest as Garen lifted the shirt off over her head. Positioning her so her back was facing him, he began to unravel the strips of linen that held various bandages in place. Sick with rage, but too weak to do anything about it, it took Katarina all her strength and determination to hold the towel up as her breathing became laboured with the simple effort of just sitting up.  
She could feel fingers moving down her side as her tormenter carefully inspected each mark. “Hmm, these all did well. I think the bandages can stay off now, there’s no open wounds left.”

Alarmed at this, for it implied a passage of time since she was last awake, Katarina managed to croak out three words. “How long… asleep...?”  
“Hmm? Oh, about a week. You had a nasty fever that wouldn’t go away.” Placing a hand on her forehead, he continued, “still do, but it’s not as bad, I see. That’s good.” He finally put the shirt back on, and, worn out, Katarina flopped over, not caring how she landed now. Garen caught her, then tucked her back into the bed. The fight vanishing from her, all she heard was some mumbling before sleep overtook her.

*******

The smell of food caused Katarina to come awake again, her stomach churning in ravenous hunger. Garen was there again, holding a bowl of who-knows-what. After seeing that she was awake, he said something, though the words were lost upon her, all her attention being on the bowl. Taking a spoonful, he brought it to her mouth, and she all but attacked it, quickly trying to get the food down. Swallowing proved difficult from her horizontal position, and when she started coughing and choking, Garen picked her up and placed her in his lap, holding her up against his chest. If he hadn’t been feeding her, she would have protested this. Instead, she was too focused on eating, and didn’t care.

He was agonizingly slow, though, holding back the spoon for a few seconds before delivering it to her mouth, and once she had the energy, she growled, “Faster, I’m hungry!”

“No, you’re going to choke. I know you’re hungry, but you need to slow down.”

She threw a fit, hitting him and trying to grab and move the hand holding the spoon towards her, but this seemed to make no difference to Garen, as he continued his slow pace, ignoring her protests.

The bowl was finally empty, and without its contents grabbing her attention, Katarina now turned on Garen, scratching everything she could reach. “Okay, okay, I’m putting you down now. Sheesh.” He laid her down on the bed again, covering her with the warm blankets. “Always gonna fight everything, eh? You should try patience and calmness. It’s less exhausting.”

Trying to shout at him in response, all that came out was a squeaky, hoarse noise. Indignant at his laughing, she glared at him in cold fury before managing a whisper. “Did you save me from a quick death so you could torture me throughout a much slower and more agonizing one? This is cruel and inhumane, what you’ve done to me, and here you stand, laughing at me! Monster!”

Any hint of humour in Garen’s face vanished at this. In fact, his expression seemed quite troubled. Silently picking up the bowl, he muttered “good night” before walking away, taking the single candle with him. Katarina managed a slight laugh at this reaction, before falling asleep.

*******

When Garen next returned, he had a smile on his face that immediately made her suspicious. “Well hello, I see you’re finally awake.”

Grumbling in return, she tried to turn away from him. As far as she could see, he had no food with him, and it was the only thing she was interested in.

“I’ve come up with an idea. You’re right, you know. It is rather inhumane that you’re in such poor condition.” He paused here. “I had meant for you to be able to live comfortably. Of course, it would have still been imprisonment, but you can’t reasonably expect any different, Sinister Blade. The world doesn’t know where you are; I couldn’t just let you wander about my home. And even if I could, I don’t think I would have. You know why? Because you’re constantly trying to kill everyone.”  
Another pause here. Katarina had turned back to face him again, wondering where he was going with this monologue.

“I don’t know what goes on inside your head. But if you want to live comfortably, something in there has to change. Before I go on with my suggestion, do you have any?”

Katarina said nothing, her mood quickly going sour. This was just ‘you better start behaving or else!’, repackaged. Garen continued when it was obvious she wasn’t going to reply. “The only thing that gets your positive interest is food. So, from now on, you’re going to have to earn it. Oh, don’t worry,” he said in response to the scowl on her face, “I won’t be asking much of you. Just three rules. One, don’t attack anyone. Two, don’t destroy anything. And three, follow my orders. I won’t be giving you any difficult commands, and the orders I do give you will only be absolutely necessary, but because they are absolutely necessary, it is absolutely necessary you follow them, understand?”

Again he was met with a snarl from Katarina. She was seething at him. “And what happens if I decide to not eat?”

“Well, you can’t really afford to lose any further weight, so you will be force-fed instead-”

Katarina screamed at him in anger, possessing no energy or strength to do much more. Her voice broke, and she switched to hoarsely cursing, coughing, choking, and spitting at him as she tried to make sound. Garen only sat patiently, waiting and watching, making no move nor showing any emotion. When her energy was spent, she lay there, gasping for air.

“Well, now that you’re done that, shall we continue? Now, ah, I didn’t want to invade your privacy, and you probably have noticed by now, but you’re a mess. Would you care to take a bath?”

Katarina had noticed, and, disgusted at her own state, found herself nodding. Garen lit up the candles in the rest of the room, giving her light to walk across it. Carefully, Katarina slid out of the bed, but found herself unable to stand and walk. Determined not to let Garen touch her, she attempted to crawl, but even her arms struggled to move, and she got about three paces before she collapsed. Standing over her, Garen gave a small smile. “Well, your first order is going to be to let me pick you up and carry you over to the bath, without you struggling or complaining. I think you can manage that, no?”

Katarina grumbled at this, but went still and quiet as Garen picked her up. Being force-fed wasn’t worth fighting against getting closer to a much-needed bath. He placed her on the floor in front of the tub, filled it, then walked away. The sound of fabric moving told her he was probably changing the bedsheets around, and Katarina slowly sat up and attempted to remove her clothes. This took a tremendous amount of effort, and by the time she was naked, she was also completely spent, and climbing into the bath seemed impossible. Clinging to the tub, she attempted to lift herself up, but found she just couldn’t move, despite her best efforts. Ten minutes passed and she heard Garen return to the room, and with more sounds of fabric coming from the other side of the screen, she guessed that he was putting on the fresh sheets. When he was finished, he approached the screen, but did not enter. “How are you doing, Katarina?” he asked. “I don’t hear water or anything, did you manage to get into the tub?”

Katarina didn’t say anything. She knew what was coming, but was completely helpless in her own, useless body. Finally, he asked the question she was expecting: “Do you want me to come in and help you?”

Sighing in resignation, she managed to croak a yes, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to cover herself up. Garen walked behind the screen, and quickly lifted her into the bath, staring at the wall the whole time. The warm water was soothing against her skin, and she nearly fell asleep on the spot, face drooping into the water. Alarmed, Garen caught her, gently holding her head up.

“Um, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. You look pretty tired, and I don’t want you falling asleep and drowning in there.”

Fighting off the desire to close her eyes and sleep, Katarina did her best to right herself. She found it easier to move in the water, her whole body feeling lighter. Enjoying the sensation, she splashed at it as she soaked. Finally, with Garen’s help, she ducked her head under the water to wet her hair, and took the soap and began to wash herself. Letting the water drain away, she lathered herself up as Garen switched from holding her up by her neck to holding her up under her arms. He was still pointedly looking away. Such a gentleman, she thought. She did have to thank her lucky stars that of all the people who held her prisoner, it was the one guy who was actually decent enough to respect her boundaries and her privacy.

The last of the dirty water disappearing, Katarina reached for the faucet, though could not turn it. Garen took the cue, and quickly turned it on for her, and held her up underneath the tap, letting her rinse off. As soon as the last suds disappeared, he shut the faucet off, and, grabbing a towel, threw it around her and picked her up again. “Do you need help drying off, too, or do you think you can manage it?” he asked, concerned.

As much as she wanted to say she could dry and clothe herself, the truth was that she couldn’t. Whatever energy she had left to wash herself was now long gone, and she found herself falling asleep in his arms. Seeing this, he had placed her on the bath mat, and she felt herself being rubbed dry with the towel as she nodded off. By the time he picked her up again, she had fallen asleep.

*******

Again, the smell of something delicious brought Katarina out of a deep sleep, and, opening her eyes, she watched Garen walking around the room, lighting up candles. She was tucked into the bed again, and she could feel that beneath the clean sheets, she wasn’t wearing anything. On the side table sat the source of the heavenly scents of food: A plate with a moderately sized heap of food on it, vegetables and bits of meat over rice, all drizzled in some sort of sauce. Mouth watering, she reached for it, though misjudged the distance, missing. The momentum sent her crashing to the floor, dragging blankets with her as she tried to correct herself.

She heard an exclamation of surprise from Garen, and felt his footsteps rush over to her. Keeping her covered in the blankets, he picked her up and placed her back in the bed. “Well, I see you’re awake now. Er, how did you fall out of your bed, anyway? Are you okay?”

“Hmph, I’m fine, I, uh, um, moved in my sleep, I guess?” She mumbled, embarrassed at her lack of coordination. “Uh, that looks good, I hope it’s for me?”

Garen’s face lit up at this. “Yes, it is! You did so remarkably well! I was sure you were going to try to give me hell, but there you were, calm as an angel. So I figured I’d get you something nice to eat, not just something to eat.” Pulling out a little bed tray, he placed it over her and adjusted the plate on top. He gave her a stern look, and told her, “Now, don’t try to wolf this down so fast, or you’re going to choke.”

Katarina gave a small scoff at this, and picked up the fork. Her hands were still shaky, but she found that she had improved since her previous meal. It would have been a miracle to just carry the fork back and forth between the plate and her mouth previously, but now she was managing the task, at least for the moment. Garen had pulled out a book and was silently reading it while she ate.

Unsure if the food was actually as good as it tasted, or if that was just her perception in her hungered state, she found it to be absolutely fantastic. Even so, half way through the dish, she found herself quickly exhausting her energy as her grip on the fork became weaker, and when she dropped it altogether, Garen looked up. “Do you need help finishing that?” he asked. The sneering condescension she expected wasn’t to be found in his voice, and sighing, she nodded at him. Picking up the fork, he helped her eat the rest of the food. When the plate was empty, Katarina gave a very satisfied sigh, settling into the pillows. Her belly felt comfortably full.

Removing the bed tray and the plate, Garen pulled something up from the foot of the bed, placing it beside her. “Here are some fresh clothes if you feel energetic enough later on to put them on,” he said of the small pile. “Mhmm…” Katarina’s eyes were already closing, and it wasn’t long before she was asleep again.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Determined to build up her strength again as long as Garen would let her, Katarina had stuck to behaving well around him, trying to get as much food as he would give. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was the only person she ever saw, but it also made her feel a lot more comfortable to see him so happy about her. This she resented, and swore if she ever got out of this place, she would punish him for making her so dependent on him. For the moment, however, she was forced to play by his rules, and for the moment, they were not difficult to follow.

On one night, while she was doing push ups in the darkness, she saw the room somehow light up. The source of the light was coming from the three glowing eyes of a raven that sat on the writing desk. The thing looked repulsive, with sparse feathers sticking out at odd angles, and its skin underneath was mottled and bulging with lumps of all sorts. Disgusted, Katarina inched over to the bookshelf, picking up a book. She threw the book at the raven, but the book passed through the ugly bird harmlessly, hitting the wall behind it. Giving her a look of reproach, the raven spoke.

“What are you doing, stupid girl? You’re wasting time. I told you to kill the prince! You lazy layabout. You’re just fooling around with his guard!” She slowly recognized the voice, but even as soon as she identified the raven as Swain, it now bore the head of a snake.

“You’ll never get anywhere with all your stupid daggers. Hmph, the head of House du Couteau will bring ruin to our name,” mocked the snake, its smooth, silky voice cutting into Katarina like fangs.

“Y-y-you d-don’t understand… I-I’ve been captured, I can’t escape!” Katarina stammered in disbelief, backing away as the snake grew in size, now towering over her. The eyes held her paralyzed as the snake wrapped itself around Katarina. “You’re a disappointment,” hissed the snake, and it plunged downward, fangs bared. Katarina let out one terrified scream before the darkness smothered her.

*******

Opening the door and looking inward to the room, Garen could immediately tell something was wrong. Lighting the nearest candle with the one he always carried, shadows of haphazardly strewn objects danced in the room as it was slowly lit up, candle by candle. Katarina was not in her bed. Following the chain, he found her huddled and crying behind an overturned chair in a corner. Something about her seemed off, and not in her usual ‘going to snap and attack him’ way. She was looking about, as if she didn’t even notice him, staring at nothing at all and muttering under her breath.

“Katarina, what is going on?” he asked, slowly inching towards her. Of course, she’s probably playing a game. Probably. She now finally noticed him, and she screamed, “Go away! Go away! Stop tormenting me, please.” More sobbing ensued, and she began to scratch and claw at her neck, as if something were on it. It was then that he noticed that she was bloody and raw in places, especially her arms and upper chest.

Stepping forward to stop her from continuing to harm herself, he immediately had to jump back again as she picked up the chair and swung it at him, catching him on the side. Now standing in a fighting stance with the chair held over her head, she growled at him threateningly. _Woah, when did she get so strong?_ He was actually mildly hurting where he had been struck, and realizing he was in for a tough fight if he decided to press further, he backed away instead, and dashed out the room, running for a closet. He had kept some emergency supplies as a ‘just in case’ sort of reserve, including what he needed now: a blowgun, which he equipped with a dart containing enough sedative to knock her out. Returning to the room, he took aim. Katarina made an easy target in her delusional state, sitting mostly still in the corner. She jumped as it hit her, screaming in agony far above what the dart would have inflicted. Katarina ripped it out and flung it away, attacking the site on her own body savagely.

Garen desperately wanted to stop her from doing this, but could not get near her without her attempting to fight him off. Instead, he waited for the sedative to take effect, setting up an area in the center of the room with a clean towel and pillow, and his medical kit. As soon she was down, just disoriented enough to not be difficult to handle, he carried her over to the towel, noticing that she had gained considerable weight since he had last held her. That was good, as she had been nothing but skin and bones before, but perhaps he had let her gain too much. Her body was suspiciously well-toned, which explained why her strike with the chair had left him hurting.

Placing her on the towel, he finished lighting up the room, and found her completely asleep by the time he returned to her side. _So much for privacy,_ he thought as he removed her shirt. Underneath, she had scratched herself badly, scrapes all across her upper arms, chest, and especially on her neck. Some areas were so open that Garen knew right away he wouldn’t be able to stitch them back together.

Carefully cleaning and dressing the wounds, he was unable to find any sort of cause for this sudden behaviour. She had clearly not been in her right mind, but she had no fever, and everything else, as far as he could tell, seemed normal.

When he was satisfied with his work, he picked her up and carried her over to her bed. He needed to make sure she wouldn’t hurt herself if she were to wake when he was not there. Thinking, he walked back to the closet, and pulled out a couple sets of shackles. He pinned each arm and leg to the bedposts, making sure she did not have enough room to reach herself. This would probably be awful and terrifying for her when she woke up next, but he could think of nothing else to do, other than sit there and watch her for every minute of the rest of her time down here, which just wasn’t possible.

Cleaning up what he could of the room, he puzzled over her behaviour. He would need to do some research. Perhaps she was mentally ill? Maybe there was a mental illness for ‘constantly trying to kill everything’ and this was a symptom? Blowing out the candles, he hurried upstairs to organize an interview with a doctor he knew who might be able to offer insight.

*******

Darkness engulfed Katarina when she stirred again. Groaning in pain, she tried to move to caress the various stinging parts of her body, confused as to why she hurt. She felt the restraints on her limbs holding her in place, preventing her from moving very much, and bewildered at this, she frantically tried to piece together what might have happened. She didn’t remember much. There were hints of something horrible lurking in the back of her mind, but she could not recall anything specific. Her last solid memory was uneventful. Just eating and training and no conflict whatsoever. So why was she now chained down?

Panic began to build up inside of her as she thrashed and tugged on the restraints. If only she could see, then she might be able to make sense of her surroundings, but the darkness offered her nothing.

Screaming, she wondered if Garen might be able to hear her. Considering he didn’t want anyone else to know she existed wherever she was, she was doubtful of this. Regardless of whether anyone could hear her, she still screamed until her voice broke, knowing of nothing else to do. It was when her voice finally cracked and tears were streaming down her face that she began to feel a sensation of something pressing against her, wrapping itself around her and holding her still. Bewildered as to how Garen could see in the dark like this, she croaked out, “this isn’t funny! S-stop!”

What was he doing, touching her like this? Her mind raced to the worst case scenario. Of course it all made sense, what with her being restrained against struggling. But she had still thought he’d be above such a barbaric deed.

Trying to scream for help that she knew wouldn’t come, she choked and coughed as no sound would come out. The firm body that held onto her didn’t let go, and if she could move, she would have jumped in alarm when a voice began speaking inside her own skull, the voice of her sister.

“Oh relax, won’t you? Just sleep… Just sleep, and leave everything to me. You couldn’t do anything right, anyway.”

_Cass? What is going on? How did you get here?_

It was then that the door of her room finally opened, and in flooded the light from Garen’s candle. At the same time, the presence of the other body around her vanished as she realized no one was actually near her. In shock at her perplexing situation, Katarina let out a little squeak of surprise. Seeing that she was awake, Garen rushed over to her, setting the candle and the plate of food he carried down on the bedside table. “Are you okay? Well, no, you’re not, I can see the tears on your face. But are you, you?”

“Hn?” Katarina gave him a confused frown. What kind of question was that? She tried to ask, but no sound would come out of her mouth.

Seeing her confusion, Garen elaborated. “You were having hallucinations, I think. Completely trashed the place because of them. Also hurt yourself. That’s why you’re wearing the restraints, by the way, I was worried you’d keep scratching yourself into a bloody mess. I can take them off of you while I can supervise you and make sure you don’t hurt yourself again, if you like.”

Katarina nodded to this. At the mention of the scratching, her skin began to sting again, reminding her that it was in pain. As Garen undid each chain, Katarina sat up, inspecting herself. The bandages hid what was underneath, but she could now feel the raw skin protesting in pain. “I did that?” she whispered hoarsely. Garen nodded with a grim look on his face. “But why?”

“I was hoping you would know, but it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t. You don’t remember the hallucinations? I think you thought something was touching you, and you were trying to get it off. Except nothing was there, of course, so you were just clawing at your own skin.”

Sitting in disbelief, she managed to whisper, “What’s wrong with me?”

Garen shrugged. “I… tried to look into it. I found a lot of conflicting answers, but one theory is that you might be lonely. Uh, which makes sense. You’re alone in here most of the time. I had no idea that loneliness could cause hallucinations, though.”

Katarina thought on this for a bit. “That… was not an imaginary friend,” she croaked. This got a laugh out of Garen. “No, definitely not, apparently! But, uh, obviously this needs to be fixed. Having you around more people would be an easy way to cure it. But, ah, that’s a bit of a problem. Me being around more frequently and for longer would be the next best option, even though I know you hate it when I am around.”

Katarina snorted at this and crossed her arms, glaring at him. He was quite correct, and the thought of him being there in the room with her for an extended period of time was aggravating. He only sighed at her and gave her the plate of food. “Is it really worse than having hallucinations that make you attack yourself?”

No, it wasn’t. Remembering her sister’s voice filled with remarks uncharacteristic of her, Katarina shuddered. As awful as he was, Garen’s presence was much more preferred. As she ate, Garen left the room, stating that he would be right back. He did return shortly, carrying with him a stack of paperwork, which he set out on the table. From her bed, she watched him sit down and begin what she assumed must be his work. “Working from home?” she asked, her voice rough.

“Hmm, yeah. The higher you go, the less frontline work you do, and apparently that means there’s a lot of this stuff. I hate it. I’d rather be on the frontline, leading the way. None of this paperwork business. But I suppose now is a good time to get it done. I’ve sort of taken a bit of time off of the stuff that needs me away from home, so I could be here. May as well put my hands to work, rather than let them idle,” he rambled.

Katarina gave a quiet “huh”. Seeing the papers, however, she got an idea, and as casually as she could, she walked over to the table. Before she could get within a distance that she could read the words, however, Garen seemed to have already had the same thought, and looked up at her sternly. “No, I’m afraid I cannot let you see this stuff. Not that it would actually be useful to you in any way, but it’d still be a breach of confidentiality. So you may chat while I work, but that’s as close as you can get. That’s an order, by the way! I see you’re quite keen on building up your strength, so it would be a shame if you missed a meal, wouldn’t it?”

Knowing the threat was real, she fumed, glaring at him. Looking about the room, she went to the bookcase, and as she was about to pick up a heavy-looking book, she heard Garen’s voice from the table. “Remember the rules, Katarina. Obeying my orders is only one of them.”

Placing down the book, she stamped the floor angrily and flipped him the bird, unable to actually make any sound with her voice. Storming to the bathroom, she decided to try to ignore him, and made herself a nice, warm bath. Maybe a bit of pampering was what she needed. As she took off her clothes, she was abruptly reminded that she was wearing a lot of bandages. She couldn’t even have a bath! Her temper finally boiled over, and she grabbed the nearest towel and began to rip it apart in frustration. The sound of the fabric tearing got Garen’s attention, and she could hear him now walking over. “Katarina, what are you doing in there?” Realizing her next meal was about to be forfeited, she held the torn towel in her hands, trying to think what to do. “If you don’t have your clothes on, put them on now, because I am giving you fifteen seconds before I am coming in.” Scrambling for the clothes, she managed to get them on with five seconds to spare, and shoved the towel underneath another one, spinning around just in time to look as casual as possible, giving him the most innocent smile she could muster as she slowly finished buttoning the pants.

“Okay, you can drop the smile, what did you rip up?”

Katarina shook her head and raised her arms in a questioning gesture, as if to try to say, “nothing.” Garen rolled his eyes at her, and walked over to the disturbed pile of towels, revealing the ruined one. “Really? What did this towel ever do to you?”

Her anger taking over in her mind, Katarina jumped at Garen, who was partially crouched down to the towel, with his back to her. On his back, she wrapped an arm around his neck, and attempted to scratch his face with her other hand, going for the eyes. He caught this hand, though, and flipped her off of his back with it, letting her fall on the stone floor, winding her. Wheezing as she tried to get up, she was abruptly grabbed by her wrists, and dragged out towards the center of the room. Knowing what was about to happen, she kicked at him, causing him to trip, and dashed towards the nearest chair. She had forgotten briefly about the chain, though, and came crashing to the floor when it went tight from Garen’s grab, and he used it to drag her towards him. Giving her about three feet of length to move around with, he shortened the chain again, and barely got out of the way in time before she could latch onto him. Not giving up, she gathered as much of the loose loop of chain she could and whipped it at him, striking him as he walked away. She was rewarded with a yelp of pain from him, as he shook the hand she had struck. “Damn you, Katarina, stop! You are doing yourself no favours by continuing this!”

Now well out of range from her make-shift weapon, Garen sat back down at the table. “I’ll take the lock off the chain once you’ve calmed down, but you need to calm down first,” he stated, as he looked back at his work again. “You’ve lost your next meal, but if you stop your misbehaving, you won’t lose the one after that. Misbehave again, though, and you will.”

Growling as best as she could, she lay flat on her back and kicked the ground in anger until her feet were throbbing in pain. Fuming, she crossed her arms and stared at the ceiling as Garen ignored her silent protests, busy with his work. The scratching of the quill against paper was irritating to her, and as the time passed by, her mood only became more foul.

Garen got up to stretch his legs after what seemed like an eternity of writing and reading, and Katarina did her best to appear relaxed and bored. “How’re you doing down there?” he asked. She gave him a shrug. “You can drop the pretense. I know you’re playing games. I can see you lying there all agitated from where I’m working. Do I need to remind you that continuing to break the rules will only result in continuing to lose meals?”

She gave a cold glare at him before turning over, away from him. Returning to the table, he rummaged around a bit, then continued talking. “I think you would benefit from having something to do. Would you like a piece of parchment and a quill and inkwell to write or draw with, so you’re not just sitting there, collecting steam?”

Sighing, Katarina turned to him again and gave him a resentful nod. He was right. If she had something else to focus on, maybe his stupid quill wouldn’t be so irritating. He handed her the parchment, a generously large piece, and set down a quill and inkwell on the floor. Staring at the blank sheet, she mused for a bit, before picking up the quill with a grin.

They worked in silence for a long while, Garen mulling over his work while Katarina eagerly drew her picture. Finally, Garen stood up again. “Well, that’s about as much work as I can tolerate for today. Made some good headway, though!” He sounded pleased. Gathering up his papers into a pile again, he asked, “What did you draw? You seemed very enthusiastic about it.”

Snickering quietly, Katarina pulled back from her drawing, letting him see it as he approached. Despite her crude skills and only having black to colour with, Katarina had managed to portray her intentions with the picture. It was poorly drawn, barely suitable for a five year old child’s skill, but it depicted a crowned figure lying down that had “J4” scrawled on the armor, with crossed out eyes and many daggers in his back. Standing beside it was an armored figure frowning, bearing the worst depiction of the Crownguard emblem Garen had ever seen. The words “ha ha ha” titled the whole thing.

“Why am I not surprised?” sighed Garen, shaking his head. He was smiling, however, evidently amused. “Can I have this? I want to frame it. How about on a wall in here?”

Katarina shrugged, pushing the paper towards him. It would be hilarious if he actually framed it. Picking it up, he placed it on the table before turning back to her. “Alright, I am done with this work for tonight. I… don’t want to leave you on the floor like that, and I don’t want to leave you loose with those hallucinations. So, uh, I do need to tether you to the bed again. If you would please just walk yourself over there and get in…”

If Katarina could have screamed, she would have. Instead, an angry hiss that caused her throat agonizing pain erupted from her as she balled up her fists and picked herself up into a fighting stance. She absolutely _would not_ do _that_ -  
“That’s an order, one of those absolutely necessary things, remember?” Garen sighed, looking exasperated. “Please? It’s for your own health, I just don’t want you tearing yourself up again.”  
Katarina felt like she was being torn in two. She _hated_ to give in easily, she _hated_ that she was being asked to willingly let him tie her down. But she needed food, desperately. She couldn’t afford to lose meals. And he wasn’t wrong; she needed to heal and she wasn’t sure she could trust her own brain to not cause her to attack herself again.

Begrudgingly, she limped over to the bed, her feet sore from her earlier tantrum. It took all her willpower to get herself to actually climb into bed and lie on her back. Unable to watch Garen, she shut her eyes tightly, trying her best to keep breathing calmly despite the terror and panic bouncing around inside her skull. Every single time he touched her arm or leg to put the cuffs on them, she flinched, and found herself unable to stop shaking. She heard him ask if she needed a hug, and she vigorously shook her head, hissing “go away.” Soon, darkness followed.

She hated being so vulnerable and unable to do anything. She hated herself for just giving up and letting herself become so vulnerable in the first place. In that moment, she utterly loathed herself, and everything in her life. She wanted so badly to be free. But the chain meant that no matter what she did, she would not accomplish anything to improve her position. The only choice she had was to behave and try to avoid getting hurt, or starved. She hated this idea, for it relied on the generosity of others, and hated that she was doomed to this for the rest of her foreseeable future. There had to be a way out. How did he ever plan to get the chain off her ankle? She had spent hours playing with it, trying to concoct some way to get it off, to no avail. 

Sleep came to her uneasily. Tossing and turning, she was plagued by the miserable thoughts of imprisonment, craving a way to escape, and slowly spiraling into a pit of despair. A twisted idea began to form: If she could somehow trap him, maybe she could force him to take the chain off. Oblivious to the obvious flaws of her plan, she began to dream up a myriad of ways she could do this. Smiling to the nothingness, she finally drifted off to sleep.


End file.
